Interior View
by Manningstar
Summary: What would you do if you discover your new apartment has a one-way mirror that lets you spy unnoticed on your hot neighbor who just loves to put on a show for himself in the mirror? Would you resist or give in? Blaine becomes obsessed with watching Kurt, his neighbor and eventually his friend. But can he salvage love out of deception? AU - noncon voyeurism, toys, some plot, too.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N - This written as a fill for prompt on the Glee Kink Meme in which Blaine moves into an apartment, discovers a one-way mirror into his neighbor Kurt's apartment, and discovers that Kurt likes to masturbate in front of the mirror, unknowingly putting on a show for his new neighbor Blaine. So, there is non-con voyeurism and possibly use of toys. Blaine gets obsessed with Kurt and they develop a friendship as neighbors, with Kurt not knowing - at least for now - about the one-way mirror. It also will explore what happens when Kurt finds out. Will ultimately be a Klaine fic. Reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated and I promise to respond to all reviews. I love constructive criticism and am open to any and all ideas, suggestions, prompts, etc. for the fic - though I will need to check them with the original prompter on the meme before I can include anything. Or, I could use them for a future fic. I hope you enjoy - it will be porny with a bit of plot for good measure. **_

**June 7, 2022**

Blaine walks down the busy street, oversized hiking backpack bursting to the brim with his belongings on his back, and glances back and forth from the paper to the apartment building. He swipes at the sweat trickling down his brow with the back of his hand and sighs. This is not what he expected. He double checks once more, hoping he has it wrong. But no, this sagging building on this dirty street in a not-exactly up-and-coming neighborhood of the Bronx is number 1118.

He fishes in the side pocket of the backpack for a few futile moments before shrugging the whole thing off his shoulders to retrieve the keys. Getting his sweaty arms through the straps again is a struggle and his back bends a bit with the effort. It takes a few tries with each of the three keys before the lock clicks open and he steps inside the damp, dim, musky entryway. He glances at the mailboxes and sees number 4F. A few torn fragments remain from the label that had been above the box, but he can't read a name – just something that might be the letter 'y' in the space that would correspond with a last name.

At first, Blaine is puzzled. His aunt's name was Rebecca Anderson, no 'y' in her name. Then he remembers that while the apartment is still in Aunt Becca's name, she hadn't lived here for years. It was a sub-letter who was in the apartment last – the third or fourth one since Aunt Becca moved to the nursing home a few years ago. Blaine thinks it was a man, but he doesn't remember the name. His father took care of Aunt Becca's affairs. He had done so for years before she died and he took care of all the sub-letters.

It was a stroke of good fortune that the latest sub-letter moved out just when Blaine finished his internship and got the musical therapy job at Children's Hospital in the Bronx. Even in this neighborhood, Blaine would not have been able to afford an apartment on his small starting salary. But with the rent control inherited from Aunt Becca, Blaine can finally, at age 26, achieve his dreams of living in New York, making art and helping people.

The apartment itself feels musty and cramped, even without any furniture. The floor plan is slightly odd with a door from the kitchen opening directly into the bedroom and the living room without any true right angles. Although it is a fourth floor walk-up, there is no view. The bedroom and one wall of the living room have windows that face the solid brick walls of the building next door. By far the best feature of the apartment is a long and narrow walk-in closet off the bedroom. Blaine understands why a walk-in closet can be a selling feature for many people, but it doesn't really interest him. He would much rather have a decent view.

_Oh, well. Beggers can't be choosers, _he thinks with a wry grin as he drops his backpack to the floor. Blaine digs through his backpack and pulls out a mat and a pillowcase. He shoves some clothing on the pillowcase and drops the makeshift pillow onto the makeshift bed in the middle of the living room. His parents agreed to have some of his furniture delivered after he had a chance to see the apartment and decide what he wanted them to send from his home in Westerville, Ohio. He finds his toiletries and a towel, and takes a quick shower. _At least I can add good water pressure to the list of pros, _he thinks as he dries himself off_. _He strews most of his belongings across the floor in his effort to find his errant hair gel. Twenty minutes later, he is dressed and his hair in place. With notepad and pen in hand, he grabs his wallet and keys and heads out to find a bite to eat.

Blaine slides the key out of the second lock on the apartment door, turns and almost slams into someone trying to walk past him in the narrow hallway. The other man fumbles with a bag of takeout for a moment, but catches it, then straightens and stiffens a bit, looking at Blaine with his head raised and a slightly haughty expression. Blaine's mouth drops open and for a moment he just stammers stupidly, unable to form a proper sentence.

The man is _gorgeous. _He has long limbs, impeccable clothes, chestnut hair swept artfully off his forehead, a chiseled face, impossibly pale skin and eyes that are a mesmerizing swirl of green and blue. _Are you a model? Are you a dream? _"Are you my neighbor?" Blaine finally spits out. When the gorgeous, must-be-a-model man just raises a brow, Blaine offers his hand and continues, "I'm so sorry about that. I'm Blaine. Anderson. I'm moving in to 4F." He gestures vaguely at the door behind him.

This time when he extends his hand, the man shifts his carryout bag into his other hand and grasps his hand firmly and gives it one solid pump before releasing it again. "Pleasure," he says in a musical, lilting voice. "Kurt Hummel. I'm in 4G." He extends a long thin finger toward the door on the other side of Blaine. When he says "Excuse me," Blaine presses back against his door to let Kurt pass.

"Have dinner with me?" blurts Blaine.

Kurt looks at Blaine, then down at his takeout bag. He raises that eyebrow again and waits.

"Oh," says Blaine, face falling from hopeful to dejected in an instant. "I guess you already have dinner. Maybe another time?"

"Maybe," says Kurt noncommittally. He starts to unlock his door, then tosses over his shoulder, "The Thai place on Webster and Fourth is great. Just turn right out the front door, go two blocks and turn left."

"Thanks," calls Blaine to a sliver of Kurt's back as he disappears through the door.

**June 9, 2022**

Blaine's furniture is due to arrive tomorrow and he can't wait. Living like a nomad with camping gear in an empty apartment gets old very fast. He also is anxious to get the apartment set up before his first day at Children's Hospital on Monday. Today is Saturday and he has spent the day exploring the neighborhood, stocking his pantry, and trolling for a few small pieces of furniture on Craig's list. He's spent the evenings checking out local bars and coffee shops with open mic nights. His guitar will arrive with the rest of his furniture and he is looking forward to singing for an audience again – rather than just for the shower walls.

He gave the floor, walls and kitchen surfaces a half-hearted scrub. Everything seemed pretty clean when he moved in. He doesn't think he'll need to paint, either. The only thing he wants to change, other than adding the much-needed furniture, is the wallpaper along the wall of the walk-in closet. The wall on the left side of the long and narrow closet is painted a buttery cream and has rods for hanging clothes stretching all the way across its length. The back of the closet and the far section of the wall on the right are also painted in the buttery cream, but the four feet of wall closest to the door are covered floor to ceiling with an obnoxious wall paper – black with large, ornate flowers in clashing neon hues. It looks like it was put up in a hurry, with corners askew and pieces overlapping and already starting to peel. Blaine wonders if the wall is painted beneath or if there is something even uglier underneath that the paper is hiding. He is annoyed that he may need to repaint the entire closet just to cover up the one section of wall.

He told Kurt about it in one of his typical moments of over-sharing. He actually has seen Kurt on two more occasions since his first evening in the apartment. Once was the next day. He spotted his elegant neighbor in the back booth of the coffee shop on the corner of their street yesterday morning. After placing his order, he slid into the seat opposite Kurt and said, "Hi, neighbor."

Kurt looked up from his magazine with an annoyed expression. But his eyes softened a bit with recognition. "It's Blaine, right?"

"Yes, that right. And you're Kurt." Blaine answers. "What are you reading?" he asks, glancing down at the open pages of the thick magazine. Kurt is looking at pictures of a very modern, sleek living room in a loft with wide, open spaces.

"Interior Design," Kurt says, spinning the magazine so it the picture is right side up for Blaine, quickly flipping it to show him the cover, which indeed reads, Interior Design. "It's for work."

"Oh – you do interior design?" Blaine asks. He loves the sound of Kurt's voice and is thrilled that his gorgeous – and slightly haughty – neighbor is willing to talk with him.

"Among other things," says Kurt mysteriously.

"Let me guess. You must be a model," says Blaine, glancing up and down at Kurt's avante-garde outfit.

Kurt stiffens a bit and a shadow crosses his face. "Um, no. Just a little acting on the side."

"Oh," says Blaine and falters for a moment, before he asks what acting Kurt has done. Kurt brightens a bit and rattles off the names of a few community theaters in the Bronx where he has had a small part or two.

It turns out that Blaine knows quite a bit about musicals, and their conversation flows from there. Blaine grabs his coffee and they sit and chat through that cup and another round, which Blaine buys for both of them.

Blaine tells Kurt about the hideous wallpaper and asks for his professional opinion on how to replace it. "Strip it all off first and see what you have underneath. I know you're worried it will look worse, but it doesn't sound likely there could be much worse from your description of that wallpaper. It is just as likely to be some antique wood paneling or something just as beautiful. People are idiots and don't know how to use the assets of a building, most of the time. But seriously, I can't really advise you about what to do next until you see what you have now."

Blaine has his elbows on the table and his chin resting in his interlaced fingers. He is staring, fascinated at Kurt's lips and is having a hard time concentrating on what he's saying. He looks back into Kurt's eyes, which are bright with excitement as he extolls upon all the possible treasures that might be hidden behind hideous wallpaper.

"Go out with me tonight," says Blaine interrupts, smiling.

Kurt stiffens and his haughty expression falls back over his face like a shroud. "No."

"Aw, come on Kurt. You'll have a good time, I promise," says Blaine, nudging Kurt's leg with his foot.

Kurt slides out of the booth and is on his feet in an instant. "I thought I was done with pushy neighbors who won't take no for an answer. God, you all just want the same thing," he huffs, speaking not at Blaine but somewhere into the middle distance between them. He spins on his heel and marches out to the street, slamming the coffee shop door and leaving a bewildered Blaine blinking after him.

The next time he saw Kurt was early this morning, and it was the first time Blaine wishes he didn't run into Kurt. Blaine was standing in the hallway in his t-shirt and boxer shorts, whispering a hurried goodbye a hastily-dressed, tall man with long hair pulled back in a ponytail. "Last night was great, can I get your number?" Blaine was asking his companion as Kurt rounded the corner from the stairwell.

"Naah – I don't like to fuck the same guy more than once," said Blaine's companion. "I'll see you around." But Blaine wasn't looking at the man with the ponytail anymore. He was looking into Kurt's judging eyes.

"I knew it," Kurt muttered as he pushed past Blaine to get to his apartment door. "Thank God I trusted my instincts yesterday." And with that, he slipped through the door and shut it behind him, and Blaine was alone in the hallway in his boxer shorts.

Now, Blaine stands in front of the offending wallpaper once more, as his shame hardens into anger toward his neighbor. _What the hell is his problem? I'm a young, healthy gay man in New York. I have every right to bring a man back to my apartment._

Blaine grabs the fraying piece of wallpaper and yanks it. It tears away from the wall with a satisfying tug. For a few moments, everything is loud ripping sounds and flying paper and Blaine chases the release he only gets while boxing. He shakes his head and the sweat flies from his brow and drips down his back as he pants, staring at the wall.

Blaine was expecting another layer of even more hideous wallpaper. Or perhaps a water stain yellowing across the otherwise flawless paint. Or even wood paneling as Kurt suggested. He could never have anticipated what he did see.

From floor to ceiling, four feet across, is a giant window. And that window looks directly into his neighbor's – into Kurt's living room.

Heart racing, Blaine rummages through his pile of belongings on the floor of the living room and finds a roll of duct tape and a sheet. He runs back to the closet and covers up the window with the sheet, then closes the closet door and backs away. _Does Kurt know about that? Can he see into my closet, too? How long has that been there? God, no wonder he's so touchy about his neighbors._

**June 10, 2022**

Blaine is busy most of the day directing the movers and helping them carry boxes from the truck up the four flights of stairs to his apartment. He keeps the closet door tightly shut all day, resolutely not thinking about the sheet and the view it shields.

He is surprised when he hears Kurt's voice calling to Blaine and the two movers through his open apartment door. They have finished lugging the last of the larger pieces up the stairs and Blaine is counting out cash for a tip when Kurt asks if anyone would like some iced tea or lemonade. All three of them heartily agree and call out their thanks.

"Come over to my apartment to drink it. I have my air conditioner on," says Kurt. "Just take your shoes off in the hall, okay?"

The movers gulp down their lemonades quickly and start to shuffle out the door with another thank you to Kurt. Blaine drains the rest of this iced tea and starts after them, but stops and turns when he hears Kurt say, "I'm sorry about yesterday. What I said to you in the hallway was pretty rude and judgmental. And a bit inappropriate."

"It's okay, Kurt," says Blaine. "We don't know each other very well." He looks down and feels a bit of a blush on his cheeks as he says, "I'd like to. Get to know you, I mean." He looks up hopefully.

Kurt is folded in on himself, with one arm wrapped around his waist and the other held tight to his side. "I'm not interested in dating anyone right now," he says tightly.

"What about being friends?" asks Blaine, eyes wide and pleading.

"Yeah," says Kurt quietly. "That would be nice."

Blaine is smiling at Kurt and finally start to take in the rest of the room – the rich chocolate sofa, the matching cloth-topped end table, the carefully placed art objects. The apartment is very much the abode of an interior designer.

_It looks different from this side, _Blaine thinks, then freezes. He had forgotten about his discovery that morning. He wonders exactly how to ask Kurt whether he knows about the interior window between their apartments. Blaine's eyes flick over to the living room wall, expecting to see a four-foot window to match the one in his own apartment. But instead, he sees a floor-to-ceiling, four-foot wide mirror.

"That's a nice mirror," says Blaine slowly, as he walks closer to it. He leans in close, but all he sees is his own reflection. There is not a glimpse of the closet on the other side. It suddenly dawns on him. It's a one-way mirror. _Oh God, does he know? Does he think I'm creeping on him? Watching him? _"Uh, I b-better make sure the m-m-movers have what they need. Thanks again," Blaine stammers as he backs out of Kurt's apartment, tripping over his shoes in the doorway.

"Oh, wait, Blaine," Kurt calls after him. Blaine freezes in the doorway, just out of Kurt's sight and waits, heart beating rapidly. "Did you get a chance to pull up that wallpaper? I've just been dying to know what's underneath."

"Oh – uh, no. I haven't done it yet. I'll let you know. Gotta go," Blaine barks out, closing the door and scooping up his shoes in one hand. _It's a one-way mirror that lets me see into his apartment. And he has no idea._

**March 28, 2023**

Blaine is only passing through the bedroom to grab a sweater against the unseasonable chill when movement catches his eye. He is in the middle of working on taxes, and thinks Kurt isn't even home – didn't he say he would be out of town for the weekend? Determined to ignore the movement, Blaine turns his back to the open closet door. But when a familiar soft moan drifts through the wall, he heads straight for the closet without another thought. He pushes the door open wide and stares through the floor-to-ceiling, four-foot wide glass panel into his neighbor's apartment.

It takes a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. Usually, when Blaine watches him, Kurt is bathed in bright light. But today, Kurt's living room is lit only by a small, dim lamp on the table to the far side of the sofa. It is when Blaine's eyes shift to the lamp that he notices movement again – a flash of white. He looks again at the sofa and gasps. Kurt is already fully naked, draped back on the sofa with long legs stretched wide, toned chest shining in the soft light, cock already half hard as he traces a nipple with his finger, tilting his head back into the sofa cushions. This is different, too. Usually Blaine gets to watch Kurt unwrap his layers in an artful dance performed for himself as he watches himself in the mirror.

The sofa is almost at a right angle to Blaine's view. Kurt has said that while he loves the large mirrored wall – it makes the room look so much bigger, after all – he doesn't want to stare at himself while on the sofa watching a movie or eating a snack. Kurt shifts back and now Blaine's view is partly obscured by the arm of the sofa. He can still see Kurt's chest, his legs as he lifts one and runs his fingers up and down the calf and then back up the thigh until it disappears from view, arm pumping up and down for a moment before the hand goes back to tracing a nipple again. He also can see Kurt's glorious face – eyes closed and mouth slightly open.

_God, I've always said he could be a model, _thinks Blaine as he backs up and reaches blindly behind him until he feels the bench and slowly sinks down, settling in to watch. Kurt stands and Blaine's mouth is watering as he focuses on Kurt's fully erect cock that is bobbing slightly as he takes a few steps forward. Then he turns and Blaine can see the soft round globes of Kurt's ass as he walks toward his bedroom and out of Blaine's vision. Disappointment crashes over him in waves. It is rare that Kurt moves his self-love sessions into the bedroom, but once he does, he rarely comes back into Blaine's view. Blaine's breathing is finally starting to slow, his erection starting to fade and he is standing up, ready to go back to working on taxes when Kurt reappears. He has a towel draped over one arm, a bottle of lube in one hand and – strangely enough – his phone in the other.

Blaine almost laughs, thinking, _what doesn't belong in this picture? _His smile widens as he watches Kurt carefully place the towel on the sofa before arranging himself artfully over the sofa. This is a perfect tableau of the conundrum that is his next-door neighbor. The fastidiousness of placing a towel on top of the couch blended with the wanton abandon of jacking off buck naked in his living room. Blaine thinks he'll never get tired of the puzzle that is Kurt Hummel. And he'll never get tired of watching him. Even if it sets off pangs of guilt every time he and Kurt are chatting casually over coffee or sharing a homemade dinner in one of their apartments.

Blaine had avoided letting Kurt into his apartment for as many weeks as he could after he moved in last June. Kurt kept asking about what was beneath that damn wallpaper. At that point, Blaine was already watching him every night that they weren't out grabbing dinner or a drink together, or watching a movie in Kurt's apartment. Blaine told him it was just covering up a water stain on the wall and he had already repainted it. Kurt was disappointed, but soon seemed to forget. Blaine switched out the closet doorknob for one that opens with a key and made sure to carefully lock the door and hide the key in his desk drawer whenever Kurt was hanging out at his apartment. Kurt never asked about the locked door. Blaine is pretty sure Kurt wouldn't go trying to open doors uninvited anyway, but he would rather lock the door so he can relax when spending time with Kurt.

Blaine pushes away the guilt knocking at the edges of his thoughts and focuses again on Kurt through the glass. Kurt glances around the room quickly, frowning. Kurt lifts himself off the sofa, a picture of grace, and pushes the end of it until it is angled toward Blaine. He pops open the lube and dribbles some on his cock and his abdomen. Blaine sits back down, settling in once more. He knows what comes next and he is not about to miss the gloriousness of Kurt's face twisted in pleasure, the moans and whines that are audible through the wall.

Kurt begins to run his fingers through the slickness on his abdomen and up his shaft. He grabs the phone with the other hand, thumb skimming across the screen. Blaine wonders if he is looking at pictures of some other naked man and feels a sharp pang of jealousy before pushing the feeling away. He has never seen Kurt watch porn or look at anything on a computer, phone or in a magazine before. Usually he just watches his own body in the mirror. The full-length, one-way mirror that Blaine is now looking through into Kurt's apartment.

Blaine is startled by the buzzing in his pocket. He looks down at his lap for a moment, blinking stupidly, before his brain shifts back into gear and he realizes it is his phone vibrating. He pulls it out and flips it open one handed, presses it to his ear and murmurs "Hello", eyes still fixed on Kurt. Kurt, who is now staring straight at him. Kurt, whose breathy voice comes through the phone while he is staring right at him and stroking his straining erection, "Blaine?"

Blaine freezes and almost drops the phone. Kurt is staring straight at him. _Can he see me? Does he know? Has he known this whole time? Shit, what do I do?_

"Blaine, are you there?" asks Kurt and his hand stills, covering his dick.

"Sorry, yes, I'm here. Just dropped the phone for a second," Blaine lies deftly. "What's up?" Blaine cringes as he says that unintentional pun.

"Not much," says Kurt. He is still looking intently at Blaine. It almost looks like he's staring into his eyes. But that paired with his nonchalant tone doesn't add up. He sounds like he always does when they call each other for a quick chat. He certainly doesn't sound angry at being watched or even turned on, though he is clearly still very aroused. Blaine can't just ask if Kurt can see him. What if it's just an illusion and he would give himself away?

"Can you hold on a second? I was right in the middle of something. I'll be right back, okay?" says Blaine before switching the phone to speaker, muting it and placing it on the bench beside him.

"Okay," says Kurt. He continues to stare intently at Blaine.

Blaine tries a few different things to get a reaction. He makes all his best ridiculous faces into the window. No change in Kurt's expression. He holds up his middle finger. No reaction from Kurt. He dashes into the living room where his papers are spread across the room and jogs back with a scrawled note that he presses up to the glass – _Do you see me? _Nothing. He strips off his own clothes, and feeling ridiculous, strikes a pose. Kurt just shifts a bit on the sofa. His gaze moves a bit off of Blaine and he starts poking at and smoothing down his hair.

Blaine lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. _Oh. He's just looking at himself in the mirror. He doesn't see me._

Still naked, Blaine grabs his own lube and a hand towel, and returns to his seat on the bench. He unmutes the phone and says, "Kurt, you still there?" He watches Kurt startle a bit and hears him mutter a yes. "I'm so sorry about that. I'm working on my taxes and I knocked over a whole pile of papers when I reached for the phone. I just wanted to straighten them out before the air from the heating vent blew them across the room."

"It's okay, really. How is it going?"

"Fine – as fine as taxes can go." Blaine feels like he has entered some alternate universe. He and Kurt are calmly discussing taxes while both naked and hard on either side of a one-way mirror. "Um – how is your trip going? I thought I heard a noise from your apartment earlier. Are you back already?"

"Yeah – I actually never went. My stepbrother called to cancel at the last minute. But it's no big deal – I'll see him over Memorial Day weekend. Anyway, I don't really want to talk about my stepbrother right now." Blaine isn't sure if he really hears a hitch in Kurt's breath or if he's just imagining it, now that Kurt is back to tweaking his nipples with his free hand.

"What do you want to talk about?" Blaine almost asks if he wants to come over, but stops himself. Clearly, Kurt is busy. And Blaine doesn't want this to stop. Hearing Kurt's voice so clearly through the phone while watching him trace patterns on his skin is intoxicating, mesmerizing. Usually he only can hear a soft tone through the wall…_Oh crap – what if he can hear my speakerphone through the wall and realizes I'm right behind his mirror! _Blaine leaps up and stumbles back out to the living room to grab his earpiece off the desk.

This is even better, he thinks, when Kurt's lilting voice sounds directly in his ear, "Oh, I don't know. A story from work? Something fun from your childhood? A crazy college tale? I just wanted to hear your voice."

Blaine is back on the bench. His hands are free, but he hesitates to stroke his own erection. He has no idea how Kurt's voice can be so steady while he's pumping his cock lazily. Blaine doesn't think he can do the same. It's clear now that Kurt wants to get off to the sound of Blaine's voice and that he has no idea that Blaine knows. Blaine feels a flush creep out from his cheeks and down his neck. He never thought he would ever feature in one of Kurt's fantasies. Kurt always seems so closed-off when they are together, so uninterested in anything beyond being friends. Blaine's stomach does a nervous flip. He wants to make this good for Kurt. Maybe if he continues to have a role in Kurt's fantasies, Kurt will want to make those fantasies real.

Blaine runs through the beginnings of five different stories in his mind before he settles on one and begins. "Okay. I think I have a good one for you. Mike – you know, my friend Mike from work – just told me about something that happened to him when he was in high school."

"Uh-huh," says Kurt coolly. He is watching himself in the mirror as he props his head with a pillow against the arm of the sofa and drapes one leg over its back. He starts slowly rolling his balls in one hand, the other still holding the phone to his ear.

"So, Mike was in one of the secretary's offices making copies of some student magazine or something and he hears a loud noise," Blaine lowers his voice and tries to sound seductive as he continues. "The noise was coming from the supply closet – sounding like something was dropping, and Mike moved in closer to investigate."

Kurt's hand on his balls pauses and he asks dryly, "This doesn't end with a murder or something, does it?"

Blaine huffs out a laugh, "You did say I should talk about anything. But no, this is definitely not a horror story." He switches back to what he hopes is a more seductive tone, "No, I'd say it's much more….titillating."

"Well in that case, do go on." Kurt rubs his balls again, then slides a finger further down toward his hole.

Blaine closes his eyes for a moment to collect his thoughts, then continues. "There was a window from the office into the supply closet. When Mike looked through it, he saw one of the students pressed up against the shelves of office supplies by a teacher – kissing passionately and moaning."

"Oh God," groans Kurt, tilting his pelvis off the sofa and giving Blaine a better view of his finger slowly circling his rim. "What did Mike do?"

"He was really quiet and he kept watching," says Blaine quietly. He mutes the phone for a second to mask the sound of the lube squeezing out of the bottle and his sharp intake of breath as he smoothes the cool liquid over his hot dick. Unmuted again, he continues, slowly and sensually, "Do you want to know what happens next?"

"Oh dear God please yes," says Kurt all in one breath. He punches the speaker button of his phone and lays it on the table, then turns on his side facing the mirror and fists his cock in earnest, long strokes punctuated by a swipe of his thumb over the head.

Blaine is teasing his own cock with slow, light touches. He decides to change some of the details of Mike's story to make it better for Kurt – starting with the genders of the people involved. "The student flipped them around and pushed the teacher back against the shelves and Mike recognized them – it was the math teacher and the football captain. I don't remember their names, but Mike said the math teacher was a body builder in his spare time, so he had these rippling biceps and the football captain was really tall, toned and sinewy. The student was pumping his tongue in and out of the teacher's mouth and they're both groaning and whining, and when they stepped away from each other for a moment, panting, Mike could see that both their pants were tented, their erections straining against the cloth."

Kurt is writhing on the sofa now, hips jerking up and fucking into his fist, bicep and forearm bulging with the strain. "What – what happened next?" Kurt pants out in measured breaths, struggling not to sound winded.

"Then the student dropped down to his knees and pulled down the teacher's zipper. The teacher grabbed his hair and tilted his head back, and fished out his long, thick cock. He held the student's head in place and fed his cock right in to the student's open, willing mouth."

"Oh God – really?" came Kurt's strangled voice as he continued to fuck his fist furiously, his other hand flicking open the lube and drizzling more over his dick and fist.

"Yeah," Blaine's voice is rough as his own fingers close tighter around his cock and pump a little quicker. "The student was moaning like a whore and the teacher started fucking furiously into his mouth and kept saying, 'Keep going, it feels so good, oh yeah.'"

Kurt drops the lube on the floor and swipes his free hand through the excess on his stomach, coating his fingers.

"The teacher pulled out and came all over the other guy's face. He opened up his mouth and tried to catch it on his tongue, and then he was licking the rest of it off."

Kurt reaches behind himself and stills his hips, working a finger around and then into his hole, his other hand squeezing and flying up and down his glistening, straining cock. His mouth is open now, his head tilted back.

"The teacher pulled his own pants and underwear all the way off and bent over with his hands on a chair and just begged the other guy, 'please fuck me, please. I need you so bad, oh God.'" Blaine is really getting into the part, moaning as if he were begging Kurt directly instead of retelling (and embellishing) a friend's story.

Kurt is thrashing and whining a bit now, and just as Blaine starts to describe the student's cock sliding into the teacher's already prepped hole, Kurt lunges for his phone and stabs the mute button. Kurt plunges his finger back into his hole and jerks his cock once, twice, three times before he stills, head thrown back, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut. And then he's coming in long spurts over his own chest. Blaine can't hear anything off through his earpiece, but he can hear the faint "Uhhhhnnnggg," through the wall.

"My mom's on the other line, I gotta go," yelps Blaine just before he ends the call and comes into the hand towel he is holding in front of himself, shoving his fist into his mouth and whimpering around it as his body spasms. He slumps back against the wall for a moment, watching Kurt as he lays still on the sofa, sated. When Kurt stands up and starts to clean himself off with the towel, Blaine retreats into his own bathroom. He is about to turn on the shower, but remembers that he's supposed to be on the phone with his mom. Worried Kurt might hear the water running and somehow connect the dots, he lingers in the bathroom for at least ten minutes staring into his reflection and telling himself that he is a horrible person before he at last turns the water on and tries to wash some of the dirtiness he feels away.


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N Here is another - and rather long - chapter. Toys (yes, plural) make an appearance. Also lots more angst and a bit more of the origins of Blaine's mirror stalking. Also, I just have to ask since no one mentioned it. Has anyone recognized that story in the first chapter that Blaine tells Kurt over the phone? I got inspiration for that from something very specific and am wondering if anyone picked up on it. If not, I'll let you know when I post the next chapter._**

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**June 11, 2022**

Blaine spends all of Sunday frantically arranging his furniture and unpacking his belongings in an effort to push aside both his nervousness about his first day of work looming on Monday and his ambivalence about the secret hidden behind the still-shut closet door. He harbors an irrational fear that as soon as he opens the closet door again, Kurt will somehow be able to see through the mirror and will think that Blaine is watching him. So he resolutely kept the door shut.

Instead of using the closet, he drapes his pants, shirts and suit coats over every available surface – chairs, dressers, the blanket chest, a coffee table. He hangs a few items from nails in the walls that once held the previous tenant's pictures, his own prints and framed posters still leaning against the walls.

**June 12, 2022**

Monday is a whirlwind of new and scary and exhilarating and Blaine is bouncing with excitement and anxiety all day. He is overwhelmed with trying to remember the names of almost forty doctors, nurses and support staff, let alone the other music therapists and their patients. He spends half of the day filling out paperwork and getting training on the charting system and the second half shadowing his co-worker Mike on rounds. Exhausted, but happy, he misses his train stop and spends about 20 minutes retracing his path to get back to the apartment.

**June 13, 2022**

On Tuesday, one of the other therapists calls in sick and Blaine, as the new guy, has to pull a double shift. On the plus side, he has already fallen in love with one of his patients – a young autistic boy who responds immediately to playing simple duets on the piano – and the double shift allows Blaine more time to work with him. Another plus is that Blaine is way too tired that night to dwell on the closet or the clothes strewn across the room. He skips dinner in favor of beer and falls asleep on the couch listening to Roxy Music.

**June 14, 2022**

By Wednesday morning, Blaine feels settled enough in his routine to risk spending a few minutes at the corner coffee shop in the morning. He sees Kurt there, poised and vibrant and gorgeous in yet another designer outfit, and is on his way to the table to say hello when he realizes that Kurt is not alone. He is sitting with a petite woman who is all sharp angles, crisp clothes and pin straight platinum blonde hair. Blaine strolls past them slowly, hoping to catch some of their conversation. From the snippets he hears – "there should be warm feel to the living area, rich colors but absolutely no purple" – he quickly realizes that Kurt is meeting with a client. Determined to make a better impression on his neighbor, Blaine swallows down his burning desire to interrupt Kurt's meeting just to get those amazing blue-green eyes to focus on him.

He casts a final furtive glance toward Kurt before ordering his coffee to go. Ambling toward the train station, he pauses every few feet to take a sip, stepping into building entryways or pressing himself closer to shop windows to let the more impatient commuters rush by. Blaine's thoughts keep wandering back to his beautiful neighbor and the one-way mirror between their apartments. Each time, Blaine drags his errant mind in any other direction – a song he is working on, a mental grocery list, a new method to try with an elderly patient. In spite of another busy work-day, Blaine's anxiety about the mirror continues to grow. He resigns himself to coming up with a solution on the commute home, just to quiet his mind and allow himself to focus on work. By the time he reaches his apartment door that night, takeout in hand, he has decided he will just buy himself a wardrobe for his clothes, a lock for the closet door, throw the key down the gutter and never think about it again.

**June 15, 2022**

Blaine wakes up early and after a few minutes of tossing and turning decides to give up and get out of bed. Not interested in starting work early, he plods through his morning routine and buys a newspaper on his way to the coffee shop to pass the time. He is about halfway through an article about peace talks in the Middle East when he hears a familiar, melodious voice say, "Well, hello neighbor." He looks up and sees Kurt, already sitting across from him in the booth. "You're here early today."

Blaine's wide smile is involuntary – there's just something about Kurt that draws him in and makes him feel whole. "Yes, I have another half hour before I need to leave for work, but my body decided to get up early against my will and I couldn't get back to sleep. So here I am," Blaine spreads his arms wide. "What about you? Is this your usual morning coffee time?"

"Yes, I like to get an early start. So I'm usually here in the mornings. It gives me a chance to plan out my day before I have to meet with clients or rush around the city searching for fabrics," Kurt pauses to take a sip of coffee and Blaine smiles at him stupidly, thinking that he will gladly sacrifice thirty minutes of sleep every day if he gets to have coffee with Kurt. They sit in companionable silence for a moment before Kurt says animatedly, "Oh! You mentioned work. How is it going? Tell me all about it."

They spend the next twenty minutes discussing Blaine's most fascinating patients and Kurt's most outrageous clients. They are discussing the upcoming holiday – Kurt plans to return to Ohio to visit family for July 4th while Blaine plans to catch some fireworks and maybe a party with one of his co-workers in Manhattan. Blaine glances down at his phone to check the time. He knows he is going to be late, but cannot tear himself away. Until Kurt brings up the wall paper again and Blaine shoots out of the booth, yelping that he is going to be late.

"Did you seriously not pull off the wall paper yet?" Kurt asks in a teasing voice. "That would have been the first thing I would have done. You realize that I'm going to barge into your apartment and rip it off myself if you haven't done it by the next time I run into you."

"Heh, heh," Blaine forces a laugh. He backs away from the table forcing a smile and saying, "I'll see you later." With that he turns and practically runs out of the shop.

Blaine has mandatory trainings all day. The instruction is slow-paced and most of the information was already covered in his schooling and internship. This gives Blaine's thoughts ample time to wander. And after his encounter with Kurt this morning, there is only one place those thoughts want to go: to a certain one-way mirror in a certain closet. It seems that Kurt is not going to forget about the wall paper and what might be beneath it anytime soon. He needs to come up with a story that's boring and believable about what is actually there to satisfy Kurt's curiosity while discouraging him from wanting to see it for himself. At first he thinks he'll say the wall paper covers a water stain on the wall, but then Kurt might want to investigate to see if there is a leak in the pipes. Maybe he'll just say the paper is hiding a mark in the wall – like someone had gauged a piece out of it while moving furniture. Blaine can cover his side of the mirror with drywall, repaint the closet and then not have to worry about how to explain what is _really _in the closet if Kurt ever does come over. Blaine spends the next hour half paying attention to the training and half daydreaming about scenarios in which Kurt comes over to his apartment. Most of these scenarios end with clothes strewn across the room and naked limbs twisting together while Kurt moans in ecstasy. _Hmmm, maybe I should still get a lock for the closet door, just in case._

Eager to put his plan into place, Blaine asks a co-worker how to get to the closest hardware store. Once there, he realizes that drywall is too big to hide in a bag. _What if I run into Kurt in the hallway and he sees it? How am I going to explain why I need that without fueling his damn curiosity? _

Kurt did say he would be out of town for July Fourth, so Blaine decides it is safer to wait with the drywall and paint until then. In the meantime, he buys a roll of duct tape, a heavy-duty black tarp, and a doorknob with a deadbolt he can lock with a key from the outside of the door. He also buys a tool bag to hide his other purchases.

Heart pounding, Blaine hurries up the stairs, then creeps as quietly as possible down the hallway, peeking his head around the corner and making sure the hall is empty and his key is at the ready before rushing to open his door. He closes the door and leans against it, catching his breath. _I am officially a crazy person, _he thinks as he stashes the tool bag with his purchases under his bed. _I mean really – do I think that Kurt is going to show up at the door demanding to see the wall paper and then see my tool bag in the hallway and say "Ah-ha! I knew it! You have a one-way mirror into my apartment." _But no matter how silly it sounds, hiding the tool bag allows him to start the water boiling for his pasta and flip through the mail he collected on his way back to the apartment.

After two plates of pasta and a bottle of red wine, Blaine feels ready to tackle the closet once more. He just needs to put up the tarp with the duct tape and then he will feel comfortable hanging clothes in the closet without worrying that Kurt can somehow see in. And in two weeks he can put up the drywall and it will be as if the one-way mirror never existed.

Blaine starts to tackle the doorknob first, but soon realizes that putting in the new knob with the lock will require a drill that he doesn't have. Plus that would create some suspicious noise that Kurt might overhear. He decides to wait with the lock and pulls out the tarp.

Blaine contemplates leaving the sheet that is already hanging over the one-way mirror and placing the tarp over it, but he is getting sick of sleeping without a top sheet and would like to avoid having to go shopping for a new one. Telling himself that taking down the sheet and putting up the tarp will only take a few minutes and that Kurt is probably not even home, Blaine peels away the tape.

The sheet drops to the ground and Blaine freezes, breath stuck in his throat. Kurt is _right there_. He is still wearing his outfit from that morning – close fitted black pants and a black vest over a white button down shirt with the sleeves pushed up over his elbows and an elegant black and white patterned scarf at his neck. Kurt strides purposefully from one end of the living room to another and back again, turning this way and that, looking intently at the furniture. Blaine knows he should look away, close the closet door, cover the window with tarp – something. But he can't look away. Kurt is so elegant, so beautiful, so unguarded. It is a privilege to see him this way – to be able to stare to his heart's content without having to worry about being rude or making Kurt uncomfortable. _Of course, he would be incredibly uncomfortable if he knew you are watching him right now, _a voice says in the back of Blaine's brain, but it is easily pushed aside in favor of running his eyes up and down Kurt's body hungrily.

Kurt continues to walk from one side of the room to the other with purpose. He slows down in front of a bookcase and stops, one hand across his waist and holding his elbow, with the other hand pointing straight up, a finger resting on his chin. His feet are almost at right angles and his hip is jutting out. He turns and paces again, stopping this time in front of the sofa with the same stance, but his arms in the opposite position. Blaine wonders what he is doing. Suddenly, Kurt's gaze falls on the mirror and Blaine ducks out of sight before he remembers that Kurt can't see him. Kurt spins slowly around the room, a look of concentration on his face. He stops facing something out of Blaine's view and stands still for a few minutes, allowing Blaine to drink in his profile. Suddenly, Kurt springs into action. He dashes about the room moving the furniture first into one arrangement, then another. He grabs decorative vases and bowls and picture frames from the bookshelf and side tables and rearranges them into one configuration after another, rapid-fire. Between each arrangement, Kurt pauses for a moment, spinning around again and giving each piece a critical eye before bursting into action again. Blaine had no idea that so many combinations could come from just a few pieces of furniture and accessories. And all of them look fabulous. After the fifth arrangement, Kurt starts to slow down. His movements are more deliberate and he seems calmer. He walks out of Blaine's sight for a moment and returns with a camera. After snapping a few pictures, Kurt slowly and meticulously pushes all the furniture back to its original arrangement. He also moves each picture and vase and bowl back to its original spot. He pauses for a moment, then quickly switches swaps one vase for a bowl. Other than this one small change, the room looks identical to the way it did before Kurt moved anything. He looks around the room again with a smile, then moves out of Blaine's view again.

When Kurt doesn't return right away, Blaine covers the one-way mirror with the tarp and tapes it in place. He grabs a shirt that is hanging from a nail on the wall and moves it into the closet. When he heads back into the bedroom for more clothes, he glances at the clock and realizes with a start that he was watching Kurt for more than an hour. _Oh God – I AM a creeper. What is wrong with me? Maybe I really should lock up that door and throw away the key. _

Resigned to never setting foot in his closet again, Blaine is looking up wardrobes for sale on Craigslist when he hears a knock outside. Unsure if it is his door or one of the others on the hallway, Blaine hops up and looks out the peephole. He sees a slightly distorted image of Kurt, his hand raised to knock again. Blaine yells, "Coming" to stop Kurt's knock and swings the door open. Kurt is no longer wearing the scarf and Blaine finds his eyes drawn to the exposed expanse of Kurt's long white neck. "Hi," he manages and forces his eyes upward to meet Kurt's.

"It's not too late to knock, is it?" asks Kurt and Blaine shakes his head no.

"What's going on?" Blaine asks. He is acutely aware that he is holding the door open only a few inches and standing in the opening, blocking Kurt's view into the apartment. He doesn't want to be rude, but at the same time he keeps thinking about the door to the closet. _Is it open or closed? _He can't remember and he can't risk Kurt seeing the tarp and the duct tape and asking questions.

"Um," Kurt says, grinding the ball of his foot back and forth on the hallway carpet and trying to peer around Blaine into the apartment behind him. "I made some strawberry tart and went a bit overboard. I can't possibly eat all of it. I was wondering if you want some. I could bring it over now – maybe see how your apartment is coming along," his voice trails off when he sees Blaine's panicked face. "Or maybe some other time…"

Blaine is torn. He can't let Kurt in the apartment, but Kurt has taken a step to move their friendship from occasionally seeing each other around to hanging out in each other's apartments. Blaine doesn't want to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. Kurt is already starting to turn away, dejected and mumbling something about how he sees that Blaine must be busy. _Oh God – he thinks I have some guy in here for a hook-up again._

"Wait!" shouts Blaine, a little too loudly. "I'm not busy at all. I just – I'm a bit embarrassed about the state of my apartment. You know, you want to have the place clean the first time your interior-design-expert friend sees it. But I would love some strawberry tart. Maybe tomorrow night, after I clean up a bit?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Kurt laughs. "Just come over to my place. If you're not busy that is?"

"No – no. Not busy at all. Thanks." Blaine shuffles out of the apartment and closes the door behind him in one swift motion, blocking Kurt's view, then locks the door and follows Kurt to his apartment. Blaine remembers to toe off his shoes and leave them in the hallway and Kurt smiles gratefully in acknowledgement of the gesture. Blaine's stomach flips and he wonders if there is any minimum amount of time that you need to spend with a person before you can say with certainty that you are in love.

The strawberry tart is delicious and Blaine groans appreciatively. They are sitting in the living room and Blaine keeps glancing at the mirror nervously. He can feel heat creep across his face and his next glance in the mirror confirms that he is blushing. In an effort to distract Kurt from his odd behavior, he blurts out the first thing that comes into his mind. "I see you rearranged some things. I really like it," he says, instantly regretting it when Kurt's eyes widen. After all, Blaine may have spent an hour watching Kurt rearrange furniture, but then he put it all back to exactly the way it was before. Or almost all the way back. Blushing an even deeper shade of red, Blaine gestures toward the vase and bowl that had switched places.

"Oh, no. No. Absolutely not. This is not happening again," Kurt says more to himself than to Blaine.

"Again? What?" Blaine asks as Kurt grabs the plate of half-eaten tart from his hand and gestures at him to stand up. "I'm sorry?" he asks, not sure whether he needs to apologize as Kurt steers him toward the door.

"Yeah – I think we need to stick to having coffee in a public place. I'll see you in the morning." And suddenly Blaine is staring at Kurt's closed door.

When he gets back to his apartment, the slightly opened closet door mocks him. He knows it's wrong, but he can't help watching Kurt for a few minutes as he sits in his living room and stares first at the bowl, then the vase, and then the coffee table, between the two plates of half-eaten tarts. _Does Kurt think I was making fun of him?_

**June 16, 2022**

The next day, Blaine waits in the coffee shop for fifteen minutes before Kurt walks in. Kurt doesn't stop to place a coffee order, but walks straight to the table to join Blaine.

"Before you say anything, let me just apologize and say that I know I'm a total spazz," Kurt starts contritely.

"No, I'm sorry," Blaine cuts in. "Whatever I did to offend you, I wish I could take it back."

"No, you really don't need to apologize," says Kurt. "You really didn't do anything. It's just that something you said reminded me of something one of my creepy ex-neighbors said and it set me off. Really, it's not your fault."

"One of your creepy ex-neighbors? How many have you had?" _And does that include me? _

"Two, I guess. The second one mostly kept propositioning me and didn't really want to take no for an answer. But the first one was really creepy. He was always trying to get me to come over to his apartment to check out one of his 'collections' – I don't even know what he collected, exactly. He would come up with all kinds of pretexts to borrow things, so he had been in my apartment a few times, but I never really invited him to stick around. One time he was borrowing – I don't know, a paring knife or something – and he said something about my furniture looking different, too."

Blaine is feeling a cold horror creep up the back of his neck like ice. When he speaks, his voice sounds distant and hollow to him, like he is floating somewhere above and hearing this conversation between two other people. "That is weird. What did he say?" Blaine asks this, but isn't sure he wants to know the answer.

"Well, it was very similar to what you said. Something about how he liked how I changed things. And I had. I do that a lot. Sometimes I spend hours rearranging all my furniture and décor into different combinations. I usually do it when I'm stressed about something. I know it sounds weird, but it relaxes me. But usually, I put everything back exactly the way it was. Sometimes I change one little thing or another. Anyway, the time he said something, I had put everything back exactly the way it was. At first I thought he was spying on me through the window or something. But then I realized there was no way he could have done that – unless he could scale the building or something. But when I did figure it out, it was even scarier." Kurt pauses dramatically, leaning forward.

Blaine feels a drop of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. It itches and he longs to wipe it away, but he is frozen to the spot. He is waiting for Kurt to tell him he knows about the mirror. Maybe he'll call the police. Maybe – but Kurt was speaking again, "I realized he must be some kind of super obsessive compulsive type. He probably had hairs taped up all over his own apartment to see if anyone had moved anything even an inch. And he could tell that my chair or my sofa was just the slightest bit out of place. It really freaked me out."

Blaine's hands are trembling and he grips his knees under the table trying to still them. Kurt is waiting for a response, so he squeaks out, "Wow."

"Yeah – creepy, huh?" Kurt asks and Blaine nods numbly. "Anyway, when you said that I thought I had moved everything back this time, too. And I thought this was just history repeating itself. I was afraid you might do other things he did, like…well…I don't really want to go into it right now. Let's just say he was creepy."

Kurt leans back, gazing at Blaine fondly and looking perfectly comfortable. Blaine feels like he is missing something. Obviously, this previous neighbor also watched Kurt through the mirror just like Blaine had. So why is Kurt sitting calmly with him in a coffee shop, confiding in him, and not calling the police? Blaine feels like he is going to jump out of his skin. When he can no longer stand the suspense he asks, "So…something changed between last night and now?"

Kurt looks puzzled for a moment before his mouth drops into a comical O. "Oh my gosh! I left out the whole point! Sorry. Anyway, after I kicked you out last night – and I'm so sorry, oh my God – I just sat in my living room for a while thinking about it. Then I finally realized that I took pictures of everything this time. So I pulled up the pictures on my laptop and compared them to the room to see what was different and I saw – "

" – the vase and the bowl," Kurt and Blaine finished together.

Kurt beams at him and continues, "You have a really good eye. I think you're the first person to ever notice one of my smaller changes like that – other than my creepy ex-neighbor, but that was completely different." Kurt beams at him again and Blaine's anxiety melts away.

"Yeah, I uh, noticed right away that something looked different. I didn't think it was possible to make the room look better – but you nailed it. You have a real talent," Blaine gushes. He feels a stab of guilt about his lie of omission, but he is being honest about Kurt's talent.

Kurt smiles to himself and looks down, embarrassed. "Thank you," he says quietly.

"Well, I guess I better head off to work. See you later?"

"At coffee tomorrow, if not before," says Kurt with a grin.

Blaine makes it halfway down the street before he veers into an alley. He dry heaves again and again, but nothing comes up. Slowly he straightens, takes a few deep breaths, and continues to the train station.

When Blaine gets back to his apartment, he shuts the closet door and drags his dresser in front of it. He tries to distract himself with Facebook, a movie on Netflix, a video game. But before his mind catches up, his fingers are typing "Kurt Hummel" "Interior Design" into Google, Linked In and Facebook, pouring again and again over the few pictures of Kurt, some of his sample designs, and his resume. At midnight, he drags the dresser away from the door and peeks through the one-way mirror, but Kurt's apartment is already dark.

**June 22, 2022**

Blaine spends the week fighting the growing itch to watch Kurt through the window. They continue to get together for coffee every weekday morning and to live their separate lives the rest of the week. But on Thursday night Blaine hears faint music through the wall between their apartments and he presses his ear to the wall, straining to hear better. It sounds like a show tune – perhaps something from Les Misérables? _Oh screw being it, _Blaine thinks as he shoves the dresser away from the closet door and swings it open. And there is Kurt, standing up close to the mirror, and Blaine can tell he is mouthing the words to Bring Him Home with shining eyes. Blaine stands as close to the mirror as he dares, not daring to move or breathe, trying to hear the faint sounds of Kurt's clear, angelic voice drift through the wall.

As soon as Kurt retreats to his bedroom, Blaine pulls out his headphones and his laptop and searches for every combination of Kurt Hummel and singing that he can think of. He culls through his memories of conversations over coffee and comes up with Lima, Ohio, which is how he finds first McKinley High School and then a Tumblr page dedicated to the alums of McKinley High's Glee Club that seems to be run by a Barbra Streisand look-alike named Rachel. Through this he finds videos of glee club performances from ten and eleven years ago. He watches them all. Then he finds some solo recordings of Rachel, then Kurt, then both of them together. His favorite by far is a show-stopping rendition of 'Not the Boy Next Door' that features Kurt ripping off black tuxedo pants to reveal shiny, tight gold lame pants, singing an impossibly long and high G, sitting on his legs and shimmying his back all the way to the floor, throwing amazing high kicks, and moving his hips in seductive circles. Not the boy next door, indeed. Kurt is hot as hell. Blaine watched it again and again, an embarrassing number of times before he finally drags himself to bed.

The next morning he barely lets Kurt get out a hello before he's inviting him out to sing karaoke on Saturday night. When Kurt declines, Blaine pushes, "But you love to sing, come on!"

Kurt's visage darkens and suddenly his voice is cold is ice. "How do you know that I sing?"

Blaine's smile falters a bit. There is no way to say _because I watched you sing Bring Him Home through your mirror and then stalked your singing videos online for hours _and have it not sound creepy. He settles on, "We talked about it, remember? You and I were both in our high school glee clubs."

Kurt's expression thaws a bit, but his brow is still furrowed. "We talked about Glee Club? I don't remember that."

"Well, just in passing," amends Blaine. It could be true, even if neither one of them remembers it. They talk about a lot of things over morning coffee.

"You sing?" Kurt asks. And now they are talking about it, and everything is okay, and Blaine can breathe again. But Kurt still declines the invitation to the karaoke bar. "I told you, I'm not interested in dating."

"It's not a date. It would be strictly platonic," Blaine insists. "Besides, why are you so against dating?"

"Long story," says Kurt as he slides out of the booth. "I'm busy tomorrow night. But I'll see you for coffee on Monday."

**July 1, 2022**

Blaine keeps telling himself that he intends to bury his temptation under layers of drywall and paint at the first opportunity. He tells himself that the problem is that he frequently runs into Kurt when he is going in or out of his door, and Kurt might catch him with a bunch of drywall and ask about it. But he can't seem to go more than two nights before he slides the dresser away from the wall and peaks through the mirror once more. Kurt isn't always in front of his mirror, but sometimes Blaine sees him on the sofa, flipping through Vogue or Interior Design, talking on the phone, or even watching television. One particularly satisfying time, Blaine sees Kurt in his yoga pants and a tank top, stretching and bending in a delicious display. Blaine jumps in the shower and jerk himself roughly under the hot spray after that particular episode of the Kurt Hummel show.

At least Kurt has stopped asking about the wallpaper, seemingly satisfied with Blaine's lie about a marked up wall that he has supposedly already painted over. However, Kurt does keep hinting heavily that he would be happy to help Blaine add some finesse to his decorating. Blaine is running out of excuses for why he won't allow Kurt into his apartment. He loves spending time with Kurt, but he is grateful that Kurt is going out of town next week so he can complete his construction project without worrying about Kurt seeing or hearing something suspicious.

In an effort to prove to himself that his desire to permanently cover the one-way mirror is earnest, Blaine begins writing a list of what he needs to purchase at the hardware store. That night he convinces himself to go into the closet under the pretext of measuring the space to determine how much drywall he needs. Never mind that this task isn't really necessary and that even if it was, he could certainly complete it after Kurt leaves next weekend.

As soon as he opens the closet door, all thoughts of the tape measure in his hand are forgotten. Kurt is mesmerizing, even when all he is doing is carrying the mail over to the coffee table. It doesn't help that he is wearing skin-tight pants today. Blaine finds himself staring at Kurt's pert ass as it is hugged by those oh-so-tight gray pants. And, oh God, now he's bending over the table, ass straining against the pants and pointing straight at Blaine's line of vision as he spreads his mail on the table, finally picking out a large manila envelope that he rips open with a flourish. The envelope contains a spool of gold-hued thread. Kurt disappears into the bedroom. Blaine is just starting to lift up the tarp when Kurt bounds back into view, carrying a bundle of cloth. After a few more trips to and from the bedroom, Kurt has a sewing machine, scissors, and a sketch book. The book is not at the best angle, but from what Blaine can see, Kurt is looking at a pencil drawing of an elaborate suit coat. _Did he draw that himself? Does he design and sew his own clothes? God, is there nothing Kurt can't do? _

Blaine watches for hours, transfixed as Kurt transforms the bundle of cloth into a stunning suit coat. He is finally startled out of his trance by a phone call from his brother. He puts his earpiece in, mutes his phone and listens to Cooper drone on about his latest audition while he walks around the apartment getting ready for bed. He shuts the closet door, but doesn't bother to put the dresser in front of the door. He gives occasional monosyllabic responses to encourage Cooper in his monologue while he searches Vogue online for men's fashion trends. He could have sworn he saw a similar jacket to Kurt's design in one of the issues last fall. _Ah-ha. It __was__ a Vivienne Westwood. _

**July 2, 2022**

"That suit coat is amazing, Kurt. It reminds me a little of this Vivienne Westwood I saw on a Vogue blog last fall, but it's not that exactly. It's even better," Blaine gushes enthusiastically as they walk to the coffee shop.

Kurt beams and asks, "Really, you think it looks like a Vivienne Westwood?"

"A little, but it's better. It's the most incredible piece of clothing I've ever seen. And it fits you so perfectly. Did you get it tailored?"

Blaine realizes he is laying it on a little thick, but Kurt is smiling shyly and looking at the sidewalk as they walk and it makes his heart flutter to know he can make Kurt feel good about his talents. Kurt stays silent, but his smile grows.

"No – you mean – you didn't tailor it yourself, did you? You can do that?" Blaine continues. Kurt looks right at him, smiling widely, eyes wrinkling and two tiny rows of pearly teeth on display. Blaine loves seeing Kurt smile like this. Usually he is careful to smile only with his lips. He says he's embarrassed by how small his teeth are, but Blaine thinks he looks adorable. Kurt still hasn't said anything, but he is clearly pleased with the compliments.

"Where did you get it? I'm not sure if I can afford it, but I might just have to bite the bullet and get something by the same designer. I really love it," Blaine continues.

Kurt is blushing now and says, "Um…well. You might be able to get a discount…"

Blaine stops in the middle of the sidewalk stares at him with an incredulous look. "No way, Kurt. You mean, you made this? Oh my God, you really are perfect!"

Kurt laughs and says, "Stop, stop. You're embarrassing me. I'm not really a designer. I just copy things I like from some of my favorite designers and add some flair and personal style here and there. And you're right on the money. I did base this one on a Vivienne Westwood design from last fall. But seriously, if you really like it I'm sure I could make something for you sometime."

"That would be amazing," Blaine says, his face starting to ache from all the smiling but he doesn't care.

"Oh, I've been meaning to tell you, since you brought this up before. There's a great karaoke place right in the neighborhood. You were right about that. We should totally go. Are you free the Saturday after the Fourth of July weekend?"

Over coffee they talk about their favorite bands and past karaoke experiences. Blaine mentions that he writes his own songs. Kurt says he once auditioned for the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts, but fell into interior design when that didn't work out. Kurt walks Blaine to the train station and they sing a few bars of Perfect together after Blaine confesses to once having a thing for the cleaned up version of Pink songs.

It takes Blaine all day to come down from the high of spending time with Kurt. That night he lies awake for hours, staring in the direction of the ceiling and wondering if violating Kurt's privacy is worth it if it allows him to say something that makes Kurt happy.

**July 5, 2022**

Blaine spends July 4th in Manhattan with his friend Mike, a physical therapist at the hospital, and his fiancée Tina. He dutifully follows them to a series of parties that starts with a picnic in Central Park and continues through progressively more heavily alcoholic drinks at three different Upper East Side apartments before ending at a smoky rooftop fireworks watching party where Blaine got stoned and makes out with a tall guy with chestnut hair and blue eyes who is a wonderful kisser, but has the distinct disadvantage of not being Kurt. All the guests spend the night sprawled across couches, pillows and the plush living room rug.

The next day, Blaine finally returns to the hardware store. By the evening, he has the new doorknob with the lock installed on the closet door, all his clothes neatly hung up, sheets of drywall leaning against the back wall behind the clothes, and paint and painting supplies stacked in the corner. Blaine spends most of the next day telling himself that now that he has all the materials in the apartment and the lock on the closet door to keep everything safe from prying eyes, he can actually put up the drywall any time.

On his way home from the grocery story that afternoon, Blaine walks through a temporary flea market set up on the block before his house. When he sees the low wooden bench with the padded seat, he immediately pays the full asking price. He keeps his mind carefully blank as he sets the bench in the closet opposite the one-way mirror.

**January 30, 2023**

Blaine is sitting on a folding chair in a dim room, watching a community theatre production of The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Blaine greatly prefers musicals and modern plays to Shakespeare, but he is here to support Kurt, who is playing a servant of one of the main characters. Kurt is doing an amazing job. The servant role includes a lot of searing wit and biting commentary and Kurt is playing the role with the perfect amount of pomp and flair. Even when he is just standing off to the side of the stage, he pulls focus. And one advantage to Shakespeare is the plethora of amazing costumes. Kurt's is no exception. He is wearing tight white pants with knee high leather lace-up boots and a flowing peasant shirt tucked in to the pants. The shirt hangs low, revealing a wide swatch of Kurt's toned chest.

The other actors do a fair enough job, but Blaine finds his thoughts wandering when Kurt is not actually on the stage. It is Saturday night – the second performance of the play. He missed opening night because he had to work late on Friday. Of course, Friday would not have been as good a day to see the play anyway because Kurt had the cast party to attend immediately after the curtain closed. Blaine is glad that after this second performance, Kurt has no plans other than to go back home and hang out with his good friend and neighbor in one of their apartments.

During the final curtain call, Blaine jumps up and hoots and cheers and claps wildly as Kurt bows. He has no problem hamming it up and Blaine's over-the-top cheering encourages the entire crowd to increase the volume of their applause and catcalls. Still embodying the servant from the play, Kurt blows a kiss directly at him and Blaine's heart skips a beat. He waits a few minutes to allow the casual viewers to leave before joining the small crowd close to the stage waiting for the actors to emerge. He grips a small bouquet of red and yellow roses behind his back.

When Kurt heads out the stage door, he is still wearing his full costume but has scraped off most of his stage makeup. Blaine presents the bouquet with a flourish and Kurt puts a hand over his heart and gives Blaine a huge smile and a quick hug. "Let me say goodbye to everyone and then we can head home. These are lovely, would you hold them for me for a minute?" he mumbles quickly into Blaine's shoulder, giving back the bouquet temporarily and then he's off, flitting from one actor to the other saying his goodbyes. Blaine leans against the stage content to wait for his friend.

Blaine scrolls through messages on his phone, responding to texts he received yesterday from Mike and Wes. After a few minutes, he looks up and sees that a very tall, broad man with black hair flecked with gray at his temples is speaking animatedly to Kurt, gesturing broadly and leaning in with a broad smile. Kurt's back is to Blaine, but Blaine doesn't need to see Kurt's face to read the telltale tension as his shoulders rise up toward his ears. The man is leaning closer now, eyes running up and down Kurt's body and when his hand brushes Kurt's thigh, Kurt stiffens and starts to back away. The other guy is reaching out a hand toward Kurt's shoulder now and that's the breaking point. Blaine sidles up to Kurt and puts an arm around his waist. "Hey babe," he says to Kurt. Gesturing at the other guy he asks, "Who's your friend?"

Glaring between the two of them, the other guy says, "I was just leaving." As he walks past, he mutters sullenly, "You could have just told me you had a boyfriend."

As soon as the other guy is out of sight, Blaine releases Kurt from the hold around his waist and Kurt puts a few feet of distance between them. "Believe it or not, I was handling that," Kurt says petulantly.

"I don't doubt it," Blaine responds amicably. "I'm just getting hungry and I have some lovely chicken pesto wraps waiting for us in my apartment."

"All right then, good sir. Lead the way," Kurt says with an exaggerated British accent, linking his arm through Blaine's.

"Seriously, though," Blaine begins once they are sitting on the subway car. "That guy was good-looking. Distinguished. Maybe he was coming on a bit strong, but don't you ever think about going out – or even just hooking up?" Blaine certainly hasn't ever seen Kurt bring anyone to his apartment. And he spends most of his time either working, at his apartment or with Blaine. Blaine would know – he watches Kurt through the one-way mirror almost every day.

Kurt stretches his lips into a grimace. "Nah, I'm not interested. You know, I used to believe in soul mates and romance and all that crap. Then I had a few pretty awful quote-unquote relationships, some even worse hook-ups and a bunch of creeps and scumbags throwing themselves at me. All of that kind of soured me to the whole dating thing. And sure, I could just go out and find someone random to have sex, but it just isn't as good when its just bodies moving around and getting each other off. I mean, most of that I can do for myself. And I don't really want to throw myself around."

Blaine struggles to keep his face carefully neutral as he thinks about all the times he's seen Kurt 'doing for himself' in front of his mirror. And boy, does he. Blaine has even tried copying some of Kurt's moves and found them quite enjoyable. And Blaine always pays close attention to what gives Kurt the most pleasure. He hopes someday he will have the chance to use that knowledge if he can ever convince Kurt to move their relationship beyond the boundary of just friends.

However, Blaine does not share Kurt's discipline or chastity. Occasionally he goes out to a club or a bar on his own, usually straight after work, and picks up a stranger. He always goes to their place because he doesn't want a repeat of that first morning after when Kurt caught him saying goodbye to the guy in his boxer shorts in the hallway. He has taken to keeping a supply of condoms and lube in his locker at the hospital for these periodic trysts.

Blaine expects Kurt will disappear into his own apartment to change but Kurt instead follows right behind Blaine, pleading his own hunger. "Chicken pesto is one of my all time favorites."

"I know, that's why I made it for your big second night as a Shakespeare star," says Blaine, pulling out the plates.

They bring their plates to the couch to eat and Kurt entertains Blaine with tales of all the backstage disasters from last night and tonight. They are drinking red wine out of ridiculously large, stem-less glasses that Blaine found at a yard sale last month. Blaine has only had a few sips, but Kurt is already half-way through with his second full glass when he turns suddenly serious.

"You know, if I ever were to date again, it would have to be someone good. Someone I can rely on. Someone I can be friends with," Kurt says out of the blue. Blaine's heart is racing. Blaine is wishing so hard to hear the next words that at first he thinks it is a figment of his imagination when he hears Kurt continue with, "Someone like you – you're so good, so kind." But the words are real and if this were a movie it would be Blaine's cue to capture Kurt's lips with his as the music swells triumphantly in the background.

Instead, Blaine is hit with an intense wave of guilt. _This is life, not a movie. Messy, dirty, shameful life. And if this was a movie it would not be a romantic comedy but some sort of twisted porno with me in the peeping-Tom role._ He hears the words before he even realizes he is going to say them. "I'm not good or kind."

"What do you mean? Of course you are. You're such a great friend. A great person. And you get me in a way no one else does." Kurt insists, looking into Blaine's eyes intently.

_Oh God, Kurt. I think I love you, and I know I want you, and you have no idea how __not__ good I am. I am the utter opposite of a 'great person'. _But this time, Blaine says nothing. Instead, he stays completely still, barely even breathing as Kurt continues to gaze deep into his eyes. He lets Kurt lean closer and closer until he can feel Kurt's breath against his lips. Blaine doesn't know what he's praying for harder – for Kurt to just close the distance and press his heavenly lips to Blaine's or for the earth to open and swallow him up to burn in a special hell reserved for lying, cheating peeping Tom neighbors like him. _Forget hell, I choose heaven. _Blaine licks his lips and leans forward, mouth slightly open and hand snaking into Kurt's hair to draw him closer. Blaine's hand in his hair breaks the trance and Kurt jumps up, nearly slamming his chest into Blaine's face in his haste to reach his feet. In two strides he is at the door.

"I'm drunk and stupid – just ignore me. Thanks for dinner," he calls as he throws the door open. Just as suddenly, the door closes behind him and he's gone.

_Fuck_, Blaine thinks stupidly and rubs first at his face and then at his hair, wondering what he did wrong. Then begins his nightly ritual of debating with himself about right and wrong, but it's not long before he fishes the key out of his desk drawer and unlocks the closet, leaving the key in the lock in case Kurt comes back and knocks at the front door. He knows he's weak, but he can't help it. He is an addict and watching Kurt is his drug.

Kurt is standing in front of the mirror, watching himself with smoky eyes as he slowly and deliberately pulls the peasant shirt up and over his head, revealing his pale, toned stomach inch by inch. Knowing he was in for a good show, Blaine settles onto the bench to watch.

Kurt runs his hands up and down his sides, stretching languidly and alternately flexing his pecs and his biceps. He sticks a finger from each hand into his mouth and sucks obscenely for a moment before tracing back down to his nipples, leaving wet trails on his skin as his nipples harden. Blaine feels the blood rush to his cock as he imagines tracing that same path from neck to chest to nipples with his mouth, flecking a nipple with his tongue. He palms his hard cock and thinks about Kurt's luscious mouth stretched around his fingers sucking them in and making them wet before moving down to envelop his aching cock.

Kurt's lips are moving – he's murmuring words and Blaine can't quite hear them through the wall. He wishes he could read lips, but soon gives up trying. As much as he would love to hear Kurt, he also enjoys supplying the words from his own imagination. _Mmmm, feels so good. Touch me, stroke me. That's it. Oh, God, Blaine. I want you so bad. _

Kurt turns his ass to the mirror and looks over his shoulder mouth open and still talking as he bends over deliberately, sticking his ass out and rubs a cheek with each hand through the white pants. _Come on, baby. Put your hands on me. Wrap your body around me. I want to feel you all over._

Then Kurt is stretching a bit too far and he stumbles forward a bit, pulling open a drawer in the side table and reaching in his hand, feeling around before he pulls out a dark blue cylinder. Blaine's eyes widen and he presses a palm against his hard cock and gasps as he realizes what exactly is in Kurt's hand. _Oh my God – I sat right there in that living room next to that drawer and I had no idea __that__ was in there… _Blaine thinks, but all thoughts stop when Kurt opens his mouth wide and plunges the blue dildo in and out swiftly, pausing to suck hard at the tip. Kurt faces the mirror now and licks a stripe up and down the dildo, eyes looking up and meeting his own in the mirror. He smiles around the dildo before sucking it in deep, hollowing out his cheeks and closing his eyes in pleasure before opening them again. Blaine unzips his pants and fishes out his cock, matching the speed of his strokes to the speed Kurt uses to pump the dildo in and out of his stretched lips – tantalizing slowly, then a few fast pumps, then slow again. Blaine's mouth is watering and he takes the opportunity to lick his hand thoroughly, sighing at the smoother slide when he wraps his hand around his throbbing dick once more.

Still sucking obscenely on the dildo, Kurt strides out of view and is gone for long moments. Blaine's hand on his dick stills and he pleads silently, _Come back, come back, come back, come back – Yes! _Kurt is back in the room with a bundled towel in his arms. The blue dildo is still protruding from his lips as he sucks on it lightly, absently as he bends over to unlace his tall, tight boots. Kurt drops the dildo onto the towel and sits down to pull off the boots. In one swift motion he stands, unzips, and shimmies out of the pants, his half hard cock springing free. _He wasn't wearing any underwear. He was sitting here with me, leaning in, about to kiss me, and he wasn't wearing underwear. _Blaine's dick twitches at the thought and Blaine licks his palm again before gripping his length and squeezing it lightly, gently as he drinks in the site of Kurt's swiftly growing erection.

Then Kurt is dragging the side table with the drawers closer to the mirror and laying the towel on the rug beside it and Blaine wonders for a moment if Kurt has switched from secret porn star to neurotic furniture mover. But then Kurt produces another dildo from the folds of the towel and is securing it to the side of the table. This one is larger and flesh-colored, with a shape that more closely resembles a dick. Kurt positions it so it points straight out at the height of his mouth as he positions himself on hands and knees at an angle to the mirror. Kurt's tongue darts out and he gives the dildo an experimental lick. It bobs a bit but holds fast to the side of the table. Kurt glances at the mirror, but seems unsatisfied and soon springs to his feet and disappears again. Even though Blaine knows he is coming back this time, it is still torturous to wait and wonder what Kurt may have found wanting and what he would bring with him when he returns. Blaine almost laughs out loud as he pictures Kurt leaving and returning an unending series of ever larger dildos.

But when Kurt returns, arms straining under the weight of a free-standing vanity mirror, Blaine dick twitches again in anticipation. Kurt sets the mirror on the coffee table and angles it downward. This time when he positions himself on his hands and knees on the towel, Kurt is facing the vanity mirror with a perfect view of his ass reflected in the mirror on the wall.

Kurt stretches his mouth wide around the larger dildo, looking up to meet his own eyes in the vanity mirror. His gaze shifts to a higher spot on the vanity mirror and now he is watching his ass in the mirror behind him. Still licking and sucking at the suspended dildo like a starving man, Kurt shuffles his legs wider apart and grabs the bottle of lube from the towel beneath him. Blaine notices the blue dildo on the towel and his balls tighten in anticipation as he imagines what Kurt might do with both dildos at once.

Kurt spreads his legs further and arches his back, rubbing his ass up and down against his outstretched fingers that are dripping with lube. He releases the dildo from his mouth for a moment to throw his head back and groan as two fingers breaches his entrance. Opening his mouth to the dildo in front of him again, Kurt rocks back and forth, lips stretching and sucking over the dildo in front of him and his asshole stretching around his fingers behind him. His balls and rock hard cock swing back and forth as he fucks himself between the flesh-colored dildo and his fingers.

With the angle of the two mirrors, Blaine can see everything and it is glorious. His hand is flying up and down his own aching cock, a little dry and sore now, but Blaine doesn't want to stop for more saliva or to search for his own lube.

Never pausing in his sucking and licking and moaning around the flesh-colored dildo, Kurt pulls his fingers out of his hole and coats the blue dildo generously with lube. Eyes flicking between his mouth and his ass, Kurt watches himself suck on the one dildo while slowly pumping the other in and out of his ass. Blaine can hear Kurt's muffled moans and groans faintly through the wall. He leans down and spits over his hand and cock and nearly cries out from the relief and he thumbs over the head and mixes the saliva with his pre-cum for a smoother slide.

Kurt is holding his hand still now, slamming his body furiously forward and back as he chases his pleasure. Straining to shift his weight back on his knees, he lifts his other hand to the dildo in front of his and gives both his hand and the dildo broad licks, pumping the other dildo in and out of his ass. Then the hand behind him stills again and he's straining backwards, weight on his knees, jerking his body back and forth between the two dildos. Kurt closes his hand over his cock and throws his head back and screams in a wordless shout as his body spasms and cum shoots into the towel below him.

Blaine grips his dick hard and points it right at Kurt's twitching hole. He pumps twice more before he stills and his cum splatters onto the window in front of him, dripping down and obscuring his view of Kurt's naked body lying facedown, spent on the rug, legs spread wide and blue dildo still protruding from between his stretched cheeks. Blaine leans against the wall of his closet, panting and wondering whether he needs a special cleaner to avoid damaging the one-way mirror glass.

Blaine waits until Kurt peels himself from the floor and stumbles in the direction of the bedroom before attempting any cleaning. A quick Google search reveals nothing useful, so he scrubs gently at the surface with a soapy washcloth. After that he shuts the closet door and spends the next forty-five minutes inventing excuses to get himself into Kurt's apartment so he can check the mirror and make sure that Kurt still can't see through his side of it. He spends another twenty minutes wondering just how bad it will be in that special part of hell that he just knows is reserved for him. _Yes, I am the utter opposite of a great person, _Blaine thinks again just before he drifts off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: My heart goes out to Cory's family, friends and loved ones, all of the Glee cast and all of us fans who have been grieving his untimely passing. I hope all of you are taking good care of yourselves and each other. **_

_**A/N2: Thank you so much gigi42 for all of your help as beta for this chapter. The story is much better for it! For some excellent stories, check out gigi42 dot livejournal dot com.  
**_

**July 10, 2022**

Kurt returns from his trip on Sunday night, but it's not until Thursday that Blaine sees him in person. He has, of course, seen Kurt several times through the mirror. He mostly caught Kurt doing mundane tasks like sorting mail or watching television. But he did see another yoga session and another time watched for several long minutes as Kurt drew in his sketchpad with long, purposeful strokes.

"Hey there, neighbor! Long time no see," Blaine calls out before he even reaches Kurt's booth at the coffee shop. _Or at least, it's been a long time since you saw me, _his brain supplies unhelpfully as Kurt looks up from his magazine with a smile.

"How was your Fourth?" Kurt asks. Filling him in on some of the highlights from the party, Blaine quickly shifts the conversation to Kurt's trip, letting his neighbor relay some of his stepbrother's antics and a sweet story about his father and step-mother dancing to big-band music at the local fireworks show. When he mentions a reunion of sorts with members of his glee club who were in town, Blaine remembers something they discussed right before Kurt left.

"I hope you practiced some songs with your glee club friends, because I still intend to hold you to that promise to do karaoke with me." Blaine smiles teasingly and touches Kurt's arm.

Kurt flinches slightly, but smoothes his features into a slight smile and says, "Of course. And I will wipe the floor with you with my singing skills."

"Oh, is this a competition now?"

"It sure is."

Blaine smiles at Kurt, his heart fluttering. He aches to takes Kurt's hand, but he doesn't dare.

**July 15, 2022**

Ever since that Saturday night at the karaoke bar, which started as a mostly-friendly competition between them for the loudest cheers and quickly turned into a very friendly quest to find the best duets to highlight their complementary ranges, Kurt has appeared at his door every morning to walk together to the coffee shop. Blaine's favorite part of these walks is when they are still in the narrow hallway in front of their apartment doors. Blaine feels electric jolts every time their arms brush and he can just faintly catch the vanilla scent of Kurt's shampoo. But as soon as they reach the stairwell, Kurt steps to the side, widening the distance between them.

This morning, after making fun of Kurt for yet again trying to peer past him into the apartment as he slides out the door, Blaine finally invites Kurt to drop by and check out the décor. _Wow, that sounded much less sleazy in my head,_Blaine thinks. But Kurt doesn't seem to notice any innuendo so Blaine relaxes a bit.

"Oh yes!" Kurt squeaks, clapping his hands together and bouncing up and down in his seat in delight. "Can I see it tonight?"

Kurt's enthusiasm is contagious and Blaine can't help but laugh. "Sure. I'll be home by six. We could order a pizza."

"No need for that. I have an excellent stir-fry recipe I'm just dying to try out. I'll bring it over once it's all cooked."

"Okay. But I'm going to have to start cooking for you one of these days, or I'll feel forever in your debt. I've been told I make an excellent chicken pesto," Blaine says with a smile.

"Mmm. That sounds good, too. I'll definitely let you cook next time." Kurt is already scooting out of the booth and Blaine suppresses a pained sigh that it is time to leave the brightest spot of his day and head off to work.

Luckily the hospital is busy and the work day sails by. Soon Blaine is on the subway, tapping his foot impatiently and hoping he has enough time to make sure the closet is locked and the key hidden before Kurt knocks on his door. And enough time to change clothes. _Maybe something tight and black would attract Kurt's attention._

An hour later, Blaine feels silly for putting on a sexy outfit, dimming the lights and setting his ipod to his "romantic mood" playlist. Kurt doesn't seem to notice these efforts. In fact, with the exception of the potholder mittens he is wearing when he carries a steaming pot of aromatic food into Blaine's kitchen, Kurt is all business.

He waltzes around the apartment, appraising each piece of furniture and the sparse smattering of posters and prints on the walls with a critical eye. Blaine follows him from room to room, babbling explanations for his poor decorating skills. "The furniture is all hand-me-downs from my parents' storage unit…", "I don't really have a lot of artwork yet…", "…my artistic skills are really limited to music…"

When they reach the bedroom, Kurt swings around to face him. "Stop putting yourself down. Hand-me-down furniture is great, especially when it's solid wood like what you have here. It would be really expensive to try to buy stuff of this quality, especially in New York. Trust me, I find the greatest pieces at yard sales. And I'm glad that not everyone is a whiz at interior design. Otherwise I'd be out of a job."

Blaine huffs out the breath he'd been holding in a relieved laugh. "Thanks. I was pretty nervous about what you would think."

"Now it makes sense that you worked so hard to keep me out of here for so long," Kurt laughs. "I was beginning to wonder if you were hiding dead bodies in here." Kurt grabs the handle to the closet door and Blaine has to stop himself from throwing himself between Kurt and the metal knob. "Is this the closet? Oh, it won't open." Kurt is rattling the handle now and shoving at it.

"It's just the closet. It's locked," Blaine says, trying to keep his voice even. He can hear the blood pounding in his ears. "Nothing interesting in there."

"Now I'm really going to think you're hiding dead bodies in here. Why would you lock your closet door? I mean, you do a better job than most guys I know at dressing yourself, but if you have any $500 suits in your wardrobe, I certainly haven't seen them," Kurt teases.

_Oh God. Why didn't I think of a good cover story for locking the door? Think, think, think. _Kurt's smile is starting to fade as he stares at Blaine, waiting for an answer. "O-kay," Kurt says slowly, starting to back away. His posture has changed. Everything about him seems stiff, alert and ready to bolt. "Maybe I should go?"

"Safe!" Blaine blurts out, desperate to keep Kurt from disappearing on him again. It's the first word to come to his head. He wants Kurt to feel safe with him and it is clear that Kurt, with his sad history with neighbors, does not trust him. But as he says this word and sees Kurt watch him warily, he realizes this is the perfect cover story for the locked door. "I mean, I lock the closet because I find it easier to use than having a safe. You know, for important papers? Protect against identity theft and all."

Blaine realizes he is babbling, but he can't help it now, the words keep flowing out of him seemingly against his will. "It's so easy for someone to steal your identity. So many documents we get in the mail have our social security numbers or bank account numbers on them. You know – credit card applications, bank statements, health insurance statements." Kurt's posture is just beginning to relax a bit. Encouraged, Blaine continues. "I used to have one of those safes you can buy at the hardware store, but it was just too small to fit all the files I wanted to keep in there. And the combination locks are so hard to use. I just – this is so much better." He finishes with a gesture toward the door.

Kurt looks between Blaine and the locked door. "That, um, actually sounds like a good idea. I just keep all my papers in my desk. It's not locked up or anything."

"Well, I could help you put a lock on your closet door if you want. I had to buy a power tool to change out the doorknob. I still have it, so…" Blaine smiles at Kurt, hoping he looks completely innocent.

Kurt laughs, fully relaxed once more. "Yeah, I think I'll need to find another solution. There's no way I can fit anything else into my closet. I already had to get a free-standing wardrobe for the bedroom so my clothes wouldn't wrinkle."

"Really? I mean, I know you take your clothes seriously and you seem to have quite a stunning collection, but you really don't have room for a few files when you have a wardrobe and a walk-in closet?" Blaine asks incredulously.

Blaine realizes his mistake as soon as Kurt's expression shifts to a mix of excitement and envy. "That's a walk-in closet?" Kurt practically squeals. "Oh my God! I would kill for one of those. I didn't know any of the apartments in this building had walk-in closets! You have to show me!"

_Oh shit. Me and my damn big mouth. How am I going to get out of this one? _Blaine runs through a few options in his mind, and settles on caution as an explanation Kurt might understand. "Um. Look – I really like getting to know you as a neighbor and a friend. But you can probably tell that I'm pretty concerned about keeping my personal effects safe. I don't want to offend you, but…I don't really feel comfortable letting you in there. Is that okay?" Blaine rubs the back of his head and looks down on the floor for much of this speech, chancing quick glances up at Kurt to gage his reaction.

Kurt's face is a mask of sympathy. "Oh, don't worry. I completely understand. I'm sorry to be so pushy about it. I just got excited. I totally want to have a walk-in closet in my next apartment."

"Yeah, I was told it was one of the main selling features of the place. It's a bit wasted on me, though. I would much rather have a good view instead of all these buildings." Blaine says breathily, shaky with relief. He is pretty sure that discovering the one way mirror would horrify Kurt far more than if there actually were dead bodies hidden in the closet.

"Oh – I have a great view from my bedroom window. It's really the best feature of my apartment. That and the mirror of course," says Kurt breezily.

"Right," Blaine says to the floor, avoiding Kurt's eyes.

"You know, with your spacious closet and my amazing view, we could have the perfect apartment," Kurt laughs.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Blaine says, leading the way back to the kitchen. He keeps his eyes glued to the floor as his mind unhelpfully supplies, _my closet already has an amazing view._

Kurt's stir fry is delicious. Blaine savors each bite, thankful for the distraction from the near disaster over the locked closet. Kurt is already bursting with ideas for re-designing Blaine's apartment. Blaine is mostly content to enjoy the food and watch Kurt bubble with excitement.

"Once you agree to a theme, you'll have to give me a budget," Kurt says excitedly. "Then I can start searching for pieces that would work for your space."

Blaine loves to see the passion in Kurt's eyes, but he realizes he needs to stop this from getting out of control. "The budget is next to nothing, I'm afraid. And I don't want you to waste your time on my measly little apartment. I can barely afford any more furniture or art, so it's not like I could actually hire you."

Kurt looks horrified, and Blaine runs back over his words, hoping he didn't say anything too offensive. "No! I mean, I didn't expect you to pay me or anything. God, what kind of friend would that make me?"

"That's so nice of you, Kurt, really. But I can't let you do something like that for me for free," Blaine insists.

"Don't be ridiculous," Kurt says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I love designing a space, especially on a tight budget. Poking through yard sales to find inexpensive treasures is so fun! And it wouldn't take any extra time. I go to yard sales for work all the time. I'll just keep an eye out for you while I'm working for my paying clients."

"Well, if it's really not too much trouble…" Blaine says hesitantly.

"No trouble at all." Kurt looks into the distance thoughtfully for a moment, chewing. Then he looks at Blaine, beaming. "There's an amazing flea market right in this neighborhood at the end of the month. You should come with me."

Blaine smiles and readily agrees. After all, he's happy to spend a few dollars on flea market art if it means spending more time with Kurt.

**July 30, 2022**

Blaine grins at the large brass plate hanging over the television in his living room. It has an intricate abstract design that somewhat resembles interlocking vines. It is the latest acquisition Kurt has found for him. Blaine had his doubts when they first spotted it at the community flea market, but Kurt can be very persuasive. And as soon as Kurt had hung the plate on the wall, Blaine could see that it did work perfectly in his apartment.

The community flea market was last weekend and Blaine had had a blast – at least up until the end of the day. Watching Kurt hunt intensely through the clutter of items at the various tables set out along the street, Blaine felt that telltale stomach flip that he knew meant he was falling hard and fast for this man. This talented, sexy man who, for all intents and purposes, was available. Or at least should be. But for some reason Kurt seemed to be off limits.

It was late in the day when Kurt found the brass plate. Blaine was content to browse lazily through the tables a few steps behind Kurt, flipping casually through merchandise with one hand. His other arm was piled high with items Kurt had found for various clients. He didn't mind carrying things for Kurt. Kurt was the one who really needed his hands free to browse in earnest. Also, it helped fuel Blaine's daydream that they were on a date. Carrying his partner's purchases had always seemed like such an intimate act.

Kurt had gasped when he saw the plate. He poked Blaine's arm and gushed about how perfect it would be in his apartment. Blaine was doubtful, but he didn't want to dampen Kurt's enthusiasm, so he played along. When the seller returned from helping a customer at another table, Kurt's features had morphed to instant indifference. Blaine watched with fascination as Kurt used his acting skills masterfully to bargain for a better price.

It wasn't until he handed Blaine his change that the man recognized him. "Oh, it's you again. It's good you brought your friend here to bargain for you. I remember you paid full price for that bench earlier this month."

"Bench? I don't remember a bench in your apartment," Kurt said thoughtfully at the same time as Blaine yelped out, "I don't know what you're talking about. You must have me confused with someone else."

"I always remember faces," the man said, tapping the side of his forehead with one finger.

"Well, you're wrong this time," Blaine insisted. He tugged at Kurt's arm with his free hand, urging him away. "Come on, we better go. I don't think I can manage to carry anything else."

"Where would you even fit a bench in your apartment?" Kurt had asked.

Blaine had shrugged his shoulders and traced a circle in the air next to his forehead. "Welcome to New York City – land of the crazies," he laughed nervously.

Now as Blaine still gazes at the brass plate in his living room, he frowns at the memory of deceiving Kurt once more. But he smiles again when his gaze lands on the locked closet door. He had been so good lately. He hadn't watched Kurt in the mirror for almost two weeks now. He had spotted a few tempting glimpses of his long-limbed neighbor while grabbing clothes from the closet in the mornings or evenings, but he had forced himself to simply look away again.

He knows he should put up that drywall, but he just can't bring himself to do it. It seems too permanent. Alone in his apartment, Kurt is so relaxed and vibrant – carefree in a way he never allows himself in public. And through the mirror, Blaine can drink in his fill of Kurt's poise and beauty in a way he never could in person. Blaine likes to think of himself as a good guy and he knows that good guys don't violate their neighbors' privacy. But something twists in his stomach at the thought of giving up his unfettered view permanently. He knows at least in part it is because Kurt is so guarded that Blaine feels like he is constantly walking on eggshells, waiting for Kurt to pull the plug on their friendship. _What if I offend him and he won't talk with me anymore? If I put up that drywall I'll have no other way to see him._

Sighing, Blaine puts off thinking about the drywall for another day. He has a good excuse. Work was frustrating and he is exhausted. Almost all of his patients were screamers today. In one particularly trying case, a little girl would not respond to music of any kind. He had stayed well past his shift trying to make progress. Even though it is only nine thirty, he heads into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

When he reaches the bedroom and sheds his clothing in favor of boxers and an undershirt, he hears faint music coming from Kurt's apartment. _Is that Beyonc_é_? _He presses his ear to the wall and listens. _Definitely Beyonc_é_, _he thinks as, "All the single ladies, all the single ladies," drifts through the wall.

He argues with himself for only a minute before his curiosity wins. _I've been so good for so long. I deserve a reward._And then he's pushing open the door and gasping at the sight that greets him.

There is Kurt, wearing black pants so tight they _must _be painted on, gyrating hips accented by a belt. Blaine's eyes travel up Kurt's body, drinking in the second skin of black, long-sleeved shirt topped by a snug-fitting, sparkly vest. As he moves to the music, a black tie bounces on his chest. It is tight across his throat. _Like a leash, _Blaine thinks and whistles low in appreciation.

He can hear the song a bit better through the mirror and he can feel the thump of the bass through the floor. Kurt is keeping perfect time to the beat, shaking his hips, sticking out his ass, slapping himself, and spinning around with flair. His mouth is moving along with the words, but he's not singing. _This is practically pornographic. Oh God, I shouldn't be watching this. Kurt would just die if he knew I was watching this. _But Blaine can't tear his eyes away.

The song nears the end and now Kurt's hips are spinning in fast, erotic circles. Blaine's face heats up with a blush as he notices the distinct bulge in Kurt's crotch. _Does he dance at a strip club on the side? _But no, that image doesn't mesh with the Kurt that Blaine has been getting to know. No, this must just be a private show he is giving himself in his mirror. Once again, Blaine is hit by sharp pangs of guilt.

All too soon the song ends. Kurt pants slightly, glaring critically at himself in the mirror. He stalks toward the stereo and hits a button, and the song starts up again. Shoving the guilt to the back of his mind, Blaine lowers himself reverently onto the bench he so vehemently denied owning and watches. Blaine feels his cock harden in his boxers, but he tightens his hands into fists and digs them into the cushion on either side of his thighs. _It's bad enough that I'm watching this. I can't jerk off to him, too. _Kurt performs the song a glorious three times before mopping his brow, turning off the stereo and the lights, and heading toward his bedroom.

Blaine looks down at the head of his cock peering out from the slit in his boxers. _Jerking off to a video of your neighbor online isn't as bad as jerking off to him live, is it? _Blaine rushes to his laptop and pulls up his bookmarks. He clicks Kurt Hummel Sings and scrolls through the site. He is positive he saw something with Single Ladies before._There it is! _Blaine clicks on the link, pushing down his boxers and grasping his cock firmly as the video loads. But when the video starts, Blaine drops his erection and recoils from it as from a flame. The video shows Kurt in tight black pants and a sparkly, long sleeved top flanked by two girls in black leotards and bare legs. But the Kurt in this video looks like he is barely fourteen, with soft rosy cheeks and floppy hair. He is performing the same basic dance, but it is much stiffer, much more restrained. More juvenile. _I am such a pervert! _Blaine's penis retreats back to its resting size. He pulls his underwear back on and lies in bed, feeling exhausted and willing sleep to overtake him and erase his burning guilt.

**August 8, 2022**

Blaine avoids Kurt for a few days, cancelling their morning coffees with the excuse that he needs to get to work early. But he doesn't leave early. Each morning, he waits with his eye pressed up to the peephole, barely daring to breathe until he watches Kurt walk past. Only then does he dare to retrieve clothes from his closet, heart racing irrationally as he glances into Kurt's darkened apartment, as if he expects him to appear at any moment, gyrating his mesmerizing hips. Each morning, Blaine picks up a piece of drywall and holds it up to the window, willing himself to just close off the source of his shame. And each morning, he struggles, and sweats, and hates himself. And then puts the drywall back in its corner with the neglected paint.

He misses Kurt's voice, his face, his smell as they stand side by side in the hallway. Each evening he longs to watch Kurt, even if he is just watching television. But most nights he sits with his back to the outside of the closet door, digging his fingernails into his arms and feeling like he is going to jump out of his skin with need. He spends more than a week living this torturous existence.

Tonight, his new routine is disrupted by a knock at the door. He opens it to reveal Kurt, his stylish outfit overshadowed by his red-rimmed eyes. "You're avoiding me. Did I do something to offend you?" Kurt asks bluntly.

Any embarrassment Blaine may have felt is instantly replaced with concern. "No, not at all. I've just had a different schedule for work this week. Kurt, have you been crying?" he asks, stunned.

"No, my contact lenses are just bothering me."

Blaine is almost certain that Kurt does not wear contact lenses, but he lets his friend preserve his dignity. Blaine's guilt over stealing Kurt's privacy is immediately overtaken by his guilt at giving the impression that he doesn't want Kurt's friendship. In fact, he wants much more from Kurt than that. _If I can just get him to agree to date me, I won't have to watch him through the mirror anymore. And he'll never have to know._

Blaine invites Kurt in and pours him a glass of wine, gesturing to the couch and apologizing profusely for letting his work get in the way of their time together. "I'm so sorry. I should have let you know more about my schedule. I just – I felt a little weird about knocking on your door," Blaine lies. "I mean, I'm glad you knocked on mine," he continues hurriedly when he sees the stricken look on Kurt's face. "It broke the stalemate, you know. We should probably exchange numbers. Then I can text you if my work schedule changes and we can figure out another time to get coffee." Blaine searches Kurt's face carefully for a negative reaction, but Kurt seems relieved. Blaine keeps his face carefully neutral as they exchange numbers, but inwardly he is pumping his fist and grinning. _I just asked for his number! And he's giving it to me!_

"I guess it was silly for me to feel rejected," Kurt admits shyly. "My step-mother works at a hospital and I know the hours can be erratic sometimes."

_Not so much for music therapists, _thinks Blaine, but he stays silent in a rare moment of self-preservation.

"I just don't have the greatest history with friendships. Or relationships of any kind, really. Except for my family. We get along great," Kurt continues.

"I completely understand," Blaine says, faking confidence. "I've studied psychology, and you would be amazed at how much of human behavior is driven by a fear of rejection, even when there is absolutely no reason to think you would ever be rejected by someone." _Like with you and me. I will never reject you. And I hope you won't reject me either. I think I'm in love with you already._

"You would think that rejection wouldn't phase me anymore," Kurt is saying. "I've experienced it enough in auditions that it shouldn't even register."

"But, I thought you said you've been in plays. You can't have been rejected every time?"

"Yes, I've been in some local community theater productions. Usually I audition for a lead and either get nothing or a small supporting role. So that's still rejection of a sort. But I used to audition on Broadway."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. And you wouldn't believe some of the crazy stuff the directors ask you to do. Sing your song backwards while jumping on one leg and emote that someone has just killed your firstborn before your very eyes." They share a look, laughing together. "Actually, it's not usually that bad, but they can get quite creative in their reasons for why you're just not good enough for their production. I always thought I'd be the one to succeed on Broadway, since I was so much better at handling rejection than Rachel. But I guess Rachel was better at singing and at conforming to whatever the Broadway directors wanted in a role. So she didn't have to handle rejection too much. And now she's a star, just like she always wanted."

Blaine doesn't pay too much attention to the Broadway circuit, but he likes musicals enough to read reviews in the paper, so it only takes him a minute to place the name. After all, there is only one famous Rachel on Broadway right now. "You know Rachel Berry?"

Kurt smiles wistfully. "Ah, of course. You would know who she is, too. That would make her so happy. She always was laser focused on being famous."

"How do you know her?" Blaine asks. He isn't really interested in Rachel, but he does want to know everything he can about Kurt.

"We went to high school together. Sang in Glee club together. For a while we were best friends. We were roommates, too, when I first moved to New York. But things were a bit strained between us even then," Kurt winces at the memory.

Blaine can't imagine anyone letting a friendship with this amazing man slip through their fingers. "What happened?"

Kurt twists his fingers together in his lap and forces an air of nonchalance. "Oh, I don't know. It just got harder and harder to be around her. She is a bit of a diva at the best of times. And then she got into the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts and I didn't. And then she got the Broadway roles and I didn't. I didn't begrudge her the success. Her voice is magnificent and it always has been. But I think it would have been easier for her if I had landed some Broadway roles, too. When I moved out here we started to lose touch." Kurt trailed off for a moment and looked into the distance thoughtfully. "I think she was worried that I would try to get her to use her connections to get me a role or something. But I still can say 'I knew her when', so I guess that's something."

In an effort to build up Kurt's confidence, Blaine says enthusiastically, "But it's good you're not a Broadway star because you love interior design." Kurt nods in acquiescence and smiles. "And you're so good at it," Blaine continues, pleased to see the faint blush appear on Kurt's cheeks. "And you're also a star of the Bronx community theater circuit."

Kurt laughs. "Okay, okay. You win the title of 'official cheerer-up-er of Kurt Hummel' for the night. But it's a bit too far to call me a star of community theater. Like I said, I get a lot of rejection there, too."

"But it must be a little better," prompts Blaine, resting his chin in his hand.

"Yes, it's great to get a part once in a while," Kurt concedes. "Around here the directors tend to favor long auditions. You give them a monologue, a full song and maybe a line reading and the director keeps a poker face throughout the whole thing. But I think I like the Broadway auditions better. They cut you off after eight bars and shout out 'too short', or 'too tall', or 'too white', or in my case 'too fey' and shoo you out immediately. The rejection is just like ripping off a bandaid. Short, sweet and no days or weeks of wondering whether you'll get the call."

They talk for a while longer, sipping on wine and swapping stories about plays, auditions and show choir competitions. Blaine falls a little more in love with each passing minute.

When Blaine asks Kurt to, "Please give me a chance and let me take you out," and Kurt answers immediately with a blunt, "No," it feels less like ripping off a bandaid and more like ripping off a piece of his skin. Blaine thinks about what Kurt said that night about different styles of rejection. He thinks he prefers the subtler kind. It allows some room to hope that you still have a chance to change that no to a yes.

_What spooked you so badly, _Blaine thinks as Kurt makes his excuses and heads for the door.

**August 10, 2022**

Blaine decides to go back to watching Kurt, telling himself he is just gathering clues about Kurt's life. Ways to connect better with him so that eventually he can get Kurt to date him. _It's harmless_, he tells himself as he watches Kurt watch a rerun of Grey's Anatomy. The angle of the television doesn't give Blaine a good enough view to figure out exactly what episode Kurt is watching, but he is familiar with the show.

At the coffee shop the next day, Blaine casually asks, "Did you see the Grey's Anatomy episode last night?"

Kurt stiffens visibly and stares at Blaine across the table for a long moment. Cautiously he asks, "There was a Grey's rerun on television last night?"

"Oh, did you not watch it?" Blaine knows Kurt watched it. He saw him watching it, but he doesn't know what else to say. "I – uh – I just thought you mentioned liking that show and I saw it was on last night."

"What channel?" Kurt asks suspiciously.

_Oh God, why is he interrogating me? And why was I so stupid that I didn't check what channel? _Running quickly through channel options in his mind, Blaine makes a guess. "Um. Lifetime? I think…"

After a moment of tense silence, Kurt's posture begins to relax. "Oh, yes. I guess they have reruns on that channel all the time. What a weird coincidence, though. I did watch a Grey's, but it was on DVD. You like that show, too?"

"Yeah," Blaine says softly with a relieved smile.

Kurt smiles back and says, "Sorry about my weird reaction. I have to keep reminding myself that you're not Sandy."

"Sandy?"

"Creepy neighbor number one. He was good at guessing what shows or movies I was watching. I figured he was listening with a glass held up to the wall. I wouldn't really put it past that guy to do anything to try to engage me in a conversation." Kurt is smiling as if he is telling a joke, and Blaine feels his own smile twitch as he tries to swallow down his horror. Laughing, Kurt continues. "God, I'm so paranoid. I even started wearing headphones so he couldn't hear it anymore. I was actually grateful that my other creepy neighbor just liked to make generic crude comments about wanting to get in my pants. At least I didn't have to worry about him spying on my TV time. Anyway, which one were you watching?"

Blaine stares blankly at Kurt for a moment before he realizes that Kurt is asking him about Grey's Anatomy again. "Oh, uh – it was the one with the ferry crash."

"Oh yeah, you mean the one where Alex rescues the pregnant woman who can't remember who she is?"

"Yes – that's right," Blaine says absently, fixing a smile on his face and trying not to think about himself as just another creepy neighbor.

"That one was so sad. All those people waiting to find out if their loved ones lived or died." Kurt pauses for just a moment of respect before pivoting to ask with excitement, "What's your favorite episode?"

Blaine is quickly drawn back into the conversation and soon he and Kurt are chatting merrily about favorite characters and storylines. Blaine decides that seeing Kurt's eyes sparkle with mirth is worth a little guilt over his deception. _It's harmless, _he thinks as he smiles across the table at Kurt.

**August 13, 2022**

_It's harmless_, Blaine tells himself as he watches Kurt sort his mail, watch television, stretch a few times, and read magazines. _He never has to know, _he says as he picks up the latest issues of Vogue and Out on his way to the subway station and flips through them. _Completely harmless, _he insists as he casually brings up his opinion about this year's Out100 list over coffee. _It's helping us become even better friends, _he tells himself as Kurt beams and gushes about the details of the Out100.

_I'm not really doing anything wrong_, he keeps telling himself as he pulls open the closet door and takes a seat on the bench. Blaine repeats _harmless _as a mantra that night as Kurt walks up to the mirror and spins slowly before it, twisting his neck to look at his rear. Kurt adjusts his posture, straightening his shoulders and puffing out his chest. He arches his back slightly and the fabric of his red pants hugs his ass more closely.

_I'm just looking. It's not hurting anyone. It's perfectly harmless, _Blaine repeats as Kurt faces the mirror and makes a sexy pout, running his hands up and down the sides of his black button-down. Kurt shifts his hips seductively and stares with a burning intensity into the mirror as he slowly unbuttons his shirt, revealing the pale skin beneath inch by inch.

Blaine is frozen to the spot, barely able to breathe as he watches Kurt slowly pull the shirt off of his shoulders before letting it drop to the floor. Blaine drinks in the sight of Kurt's smooth chest and toned arms. _I shouldn't be watching this, _he thinks, squirming on the bench. But he cannot look away as Kurt runs his hands up and down his sides.

Kurt runs one hand through his hair, gripping it and pulling his head back as his other hand trails down his neck, over a beaded nipple, and then down along the v of his hips. Blaine gasps as Kurt brings both hands to his waist. His eyes are riveted to Kurt's hands as he flicks open the button and tugs down the zipper. Kurt runs his hands back up his body slowly. With a snap of his hips, the pants pool at his ankles and he steps out of them deftly. Blaine eyes the bulge in the front of Kurt's snug black boxer briefs hungrily. When Kurt's hand curls around it, Blaine presses a palm to his own hardening cock and chokes back a whimper. _Be quiet, he'll hear you _wars with _you are such a creeper _in Blaine's mind.

Kurt turns and watches his ass in the mirror as he stretches the elastic over it and pulls down his briefs. Blaine stares in wonder as the muscles shift beneath the round, firm globes of Kurt's ass. Blaine stretches shaking fingers toward the image before him. _He is so close. It's as if I could just reach out and touch him_. He catches a delicious glimpse of Kurt's dusty pink hole and the bottom curve of his balls hanging down as he bends slightly to pull the underwear free from his legs.

Kurt straightens, muscles rippling across his back and turns to face the mirror, hard cock already in his hand. His cock is flushed pink, long and thin with a delicate mushroom head. Kurt is squeezing it gently, head tipped back, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Blaine's cock is straining against his pants, but he simply presses his hand against it harder, not daring to do more. _This is so wrong. I need to look away._

But he can't stop watching as Kurt runs his hand up and down the shaft of his cock tantalizing and slow. Blaine feels a stab of fear as Kurt turns a piercing gaze right at him. He freezes again, fighting his urge to run. _It's a mirror. He's looking at himself. _Blaine's cock jumps at this thought. It is hard to reconcile this shameless image of a man masturbating to the sight of his own body with the image of his often closed-off, uptight neighbor. And Blaine is coming undone at the illusion that Kurt is staring at him with that searing gaze. It is so easy to imagine that Kurt is locking eyes with Blaine deliberately as he makes a show of licking his palm with messy greed. Kurt throws his head back again as his slicked up hand flies quickly up and down his cock. Blaine squeezes his fingers around his own throbbing cock, still trapped in his pants. When he hears Kurt's moans drift through the wall, that's all it takes before he feels his release pump hot and wet into his pants. Horrified that he has just gotten off to watching his neighbor's very private moment, Blaine stands and slowly backs away, eyes still trained on Kurt's straining body. But before Blaine even reaches the closet door, Kurt releases his cock from his tight grip and walks briskly, cock bobbing up and down, toward the hallway leading to his bedroom.

_Okay, maybe that was not so harmless. _Blaine grabs a few shirts and pairs of pants at random and throws them over his dresser before locking the closet door. The next day, Blaine blushes each time he tries to meet Kurt's eyes.

**August 17, 2022**

Blaine waits until he has worn all of the clothes piled on the dresser at least once before he dares to open the closet door again. Feeling a bit foolish, he closes his eyes and reaches in front of himself blindly, hoping to safely pass in front of the window and reach the clothes on the other side. He cries out in pain, eyes flying open when he stubs his toe on the bench. His eyes are drawn instantly to the one-way mirror and he curses himself for being so weak.

Kurt is sitting on the sofa, staring at nothing, phone to his ear. Blaine feels a pang of disappointment that Kurt is fully dressed, followed immediately by a wave of self-loathing for thinking such a thing. _He has all his clothes on this time. And I've already given in. It can't hurt to take a closer look. _Blaine studies Kurt through the glass. Kurt looks utterly distraught, eyes and nose tinged red and cheeks streaked with tears. He ends the call and drops the phone beside him before burying his face in his hands and shaking with small sobs.

Without a second thought, Blaine races out of his apartment. Within seconds he is knocking at Kurt's door. He is still trying to think of a plausible excuse for coming over – _don't ask to borrow anything, for God's sake_ – when Kurt opens the door, sniffling slightly. "I was just coming over to see if…" Blaine's voice trails away. Kurt's tears have been wiped away but his face is still blotchy and his eyes red-rimmed. "Kurt, what's wrong?"

Kurt steps back and Blaine steps forward. Suddenly, Kurt launches himself at Blaine, squeezing him into a desperate hug. Blaine wraps his arms gently over Kurt's back, rubbing comforting circles into his skin and reveling in the solid feel of him.

"I'm sorry," Kurt says as he releases his grip and steps back again. "I'm okay. Just a bit overwhelmed."

"What happened?" Blaine asks with concern etched into his face.

"I just got off the phone with my dad," Kurt begins. He quickly adds, "Everyone's fine," when he sees Blaine's worried look. "It's just...my dad was diagnosed with cancer few years ago. It's been in remission. It was stage one and he did everything the doctors asked. But he still has checkups to make sure it's still in remission. He checked out fine this time around, but I just get so worried leading up to these appointments."

"But you look so upset…" Blaine says, bewildered.

Kurt smiles at him reassuringly. "It's good news, really. But I miss my dad so much sometimes. It can be so hard to have to get news like this over the phone and not be able to hug him. So thank you for being my proxy."

"Anytime," Blaine smiles back and opens his arms for another hug. He pulls Kurt close and shuts his eyes, breathing him in. _Okay, maybe it's not always harmless, but if I can help Kurt, and get to hold him, then watching him sometimes can't all be bad. And so what if there are some perks..._

**February 20, 2023**

Blaine is shamelessly sitting on the bench in the closet, computer on his lap, typing up a report on one of his patients. It would be much more comfortable to sit at his desk with the computer at the correct height. Instead, Blaine hunches over the keyboard in his lap, his gaze bouncing between the hand-written notes propped on one thigh, the keyboard and the window in front of him.

Kurt often does yoga on Wednesday nights, but the exact time seems to vary based on whether Kurt has a dinner meeting with a client, a play rehearsal, or a light work day. The yoga can last anywhere from fifteen to forty-five minutes. Blaine doesn't want to miss it just because he can't always hear Kurt's key turning in the lock when he is concentrating on paperwork at his desk. So he suffers through the uncomfortable position and focuses on his work. Work is a great distraction from the creeping guilt that pokes around the edges of his mind, threatening to seep in and take over.

He is about three quarters of the way through the stack of reports when light floods Kurt's apartment. Kurt flits in and out of view as he hangs up his coat, puts leftovers in the refrigerator, then disappears down the hallway toward the bedroom and bathroom. Blaine glances up occasionally from his paperwork, determined to get as much work in as possible before the yoga begins and he loses all ability to concentrate.

Twenty minutes later, Kurt stands in front of the mirror in snug brown yoga pants and a form-fitting cream tank top. His hair is still wet from the shower and Blaine watches a bead of water slide down the side of Kurt's neck. His heart races as he imagines capturing the errant drop with his tongue.

Blaine dumps the computer and stack of papers off his lap and gives his full attention to Kurt, who is now bending perfectly in half from a standing position. His head touches his knees and he wraps his arms around his perfectly straight legs. It looks so effortless and graceful. Blaine imagines running his hands up and down those legs, gently squeezing the taut flesh in an effort to get Kurt to make some of those glorious sounds that sometimes drift through the wall.

Kurt transitions smoothly into a lunge and a delicious strip of skin appears as his tank top rides up his back. Soon he's on all fours, alternately rounding and arching his back in a tantalizing manner. _Oh – I love that one. The ass-push._Blaine giggles and immediately slaps a hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing too loudly. He is ever mindful of how much noise travels through the mirror and the surrounding wall. Blaine realizes that inventing his own names for yoga positions is about as disastrous as that time he'd invented his own names for constellations to impress a guy on a date. _I need to do some research online to find out what those things are actually called so I stop distracting myself with laughter. And stick to songwriting as a creative outlet._

But all thoughts stop when Kurt gracefully swings his body into the next move. It starts with Kurt pressing his shoulders to the ground with arms stretched out behind him and head tucked in. Then he lifts the rest of his body – everything but the shoulders – straight into the air. The tank top pools at Kurt's chest and the perfect lines of his tight abdominal muscles are on full display. He holds this pose for a few minutes and then slowly, carefully tilts his hips until his legs are stretched out over and behind his head and his ass is pointing up in the air.

_I haven't seen him do that before. He must have learned that in class this week. _Kurt attends yoga classes at a studio not far from the hospital. Blaine knows this because he once asked Kurt for a gym recommendation. Kurt had laughed airily and informed him that the loud clanging of weights, pained grunts, machines streaked with other people's sweat and blaring pop music were just not his style. That he much preferred the clean, quiet, peaceful atmosphere of the Lasting Light Yoga Studio.

Of course, Blaine didn't actually need a gym recommendation. He had already joined the YMCA, which was the only local gym that both catered to boxers and was in his price range. He had asked the question hoping to get Kurt on the subject of yoga. Making sure he and Kurt had plenty of innocent conversations about the things Blaine saw through the mirror lowered the chances that Blaine would reveal his shameful secret with an offhand remark about something he shouldn't know.

Kurt is bouncing his legs a bit, trying to force an even deeper stretch. He turns his head slightly, watching his body in the mirror with a hungry look. Blaine gasps at his unexpected erection. _God, Kurt. What you do to me with just a look._Blaine palms his erection, suppressing a groan and hoping that Kurt's stretching might morph into something more. As if Kurt is reading his mind, he tugs furiously at the yoga pants. Without even breaking that impossible-looking pose, he slides the pants up and over his bare ass and then down and off his legs in one fluid motion. Blaine mirrors his actions, standing up slightly to pull his pants and underwear down and off without taking his eyes off Kurt's body.

Kurt's cock springs free and swings, dangling just inches above his face. Kurt watches it with interest as it begins to swell. Leaving his arms stretched out behind him, Kurt puckers his lips and blows gently. His dick jumps and grows with the attention, inching closer and closer to Kurt's lips. Kurt tilts his hips and lowers his legs another inch.

_No, it's not possible. Only 2% of guys can do that, _Blaine recalls from a long forgotten textbook just as Kurt's tongue darts out to lick off the beads of pre-come beading at the tip of his still-growing cock.

Experimentally, Blaine leans forward to see how close he can get his face to his crotch. He pushes himself past the point of the stretch becoming painful, pulls his cock toward his mouth and stretches his tongue as far as it will go. He's still short by at least a centimeter. His cock is aching for touch, teased by the sensation of heat from his tongue and panting breath. And he's missing the show. _Damn._

Blaine straightens, looking again at the mirror. This time, he is fully prepared for anything that might happen on the Kurt Hummel show. He fishes out the bottle of lube from beneath the bench and dribbles some on his cock, hissing as the cold liquid hits his sensitive flesh. The lube quickly heats up as Blaine strokes slowly, eyes glued to the image before him.

Now fully erect, Kurt's cock is long enough for him to bury the first two inches fully in his mouth. Kurt's lips stretch around his own cock and his cheeks hollow slightly as he sucks gently, then licks further up the shaft. Kurt moves his hands to his lower back, pushing his body closer, and another inch of his cock disappears into his mouth.

Blaine can hear Kurt's muffled groans and whimpers faintly as they drift through the wall and his hand speeds up on his own cock. But all too soon he feels the tightening in his abdomen, so he stops stroking, gripping hard at the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm. It's so much better when he and Kurt come at the same time. It helps him imagine that this is something they are doing together. Something that Kurt wants. Not something that he is stealing from his best friend.

Kurt still has one hand on his lower back, pushing his body and his cock firmly down and into his mouth. He wraps the other hand around the base of his cock, stroking in time with his bobbing head. His hips are quivering and the tendons in his neck are straining as he sucks and licks and strokes in earnest, moaning around his cock. His eyes dart to the mirror and he watches his lips stretch and slide as his cock pumps in and out.

Blaine is back to slow strokes on his cock, but he speeds up again when he sees Kurt's eyes lock with his. _No, the mirror. He's watching himself in the mirror. _Kurt looks away and throws his head back with a wordless shout, body tensing and spasming. Kurt's hips jerk back and his cock springs free from his lips. Come is spilling from his open mouth and still spurting from his pulsing cock, painting Kurt's face and neck with streams of white. Blaine tenses and feels his own release shoot hot into his hand as he chokes back his moan of pleasure.

Panting and already reaching for the towel at his feet, Blaine continues to watch Kurt in fascination. Kurt straightens his body and lowers his legs to the floor, then turns on his side to face the mirror. He grabs the abandoned yoga pants and lays them under his head to catch the rivulets of come dripping down his cheeks and neck. Staring at the mirror with steamy eyes, Kurt licks at the come on his face with a slow, languid sweep of his tongue. He pulls the thick white substance into his mouth and swallows hungrily, opening his mouth wide to show a few beads of white still left on his tongue. _He's trying to kill me, _thinks Blaine, as his oversensitive dick twitches painfully.

Kurt shifts to his hands and knees and crawls closer to the mirror, staring at himself with a seductive look. He runs a finger through the come and trails it down his chest. He practices a few pouts and sexy looks for a minute. Blaine can't help smiling at these antics, but is soon gasping again when Kurt holds a particularly smoking look, gathers up more come with his finger and slowly brings it to his lips. Kurt sucks the finger into his mouth and his face instantly distorts into a grimace of disgust. He spits the mouthful into the yoga pants and leaps to his feet in one swift motion before prancing back toward the bathroom. Wondering what happened; Blaine sweeps a finger through his own come and licks it experimentally. He shudders. _Yeah – it's pretty gross when it's cold._

**February 21, 2023**

Kurt opens the door before Blaine even knocks. "I could smell the delectable odor of Thai food wafting through the hallway," Kurt says in explanation as he grabs the takeout bag from Blaine's hand and brings it to the kitchen. Blaine toes off his shoes and follows.

Kurt had cancelled their regular morning coffee for an early meeting with a client. When Kurt texted him an hour ago –_I'm soooo tired. I'm soooo hungry. But I don't feel like cooking because I'm soooo tired. Would you pretty please pick up some Thai on your way home and share it with me? – _Blaine jumped at the chance to have dinner with his gorgeous friend.

They dance around each other in the kitchen, spooning food from the carryout containers onto plates and filling up glasses of water and wine. When they sink down into their chairs at the kitchen table, Kurt sighs and says, "At last." They eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before falling into easy conversation.

Feeling satisfied with his meal, Blaine takes a mouthful of water and is just starting to swallow it when Kurt rolls his shoulders and tilts his neck with a wince. "Ow! I think I pulled a muscle last night."

Choking, Blaine spits his water halfway across the table. _Smooth. At least it wasn't wine._

"Oh my God, Blaine! Are you okay?"

Still spluttering, Blaine manages to squeak out, "M'okay. Just swallowed wrong." When his coughing fit quiets and he gets his breathing back under control he asks, "I should be asking you the same question."

"What?" Kurt asks, but winces again when he shifts. "Yeah, the Advil is definitely wearing off. I think I pulled something, but I'm not sure."

"How did it happen?" Blaine asks, then immediately flushes red because he _knows _how it happened. _Idiot! Why did you ask that?_

Thankfully, Kurt seems oblivious to Blaine's stammering. Nonchalantly he says, "Oh, I don't know. It was probably just bad posture. I tend to hunch over my sketchbook sometimes."

Blaine knows that isn't true. He's watches Kurt sit ramrod straight while he works time and again. But he's certainly not going to question Kurt's excuse. "That really sucks. If Advil helps, maybe you should take some more?"

"Yes, I'll go grab it right now." Kurt heads toward the bathroom and returns with two pills in his hand. He swallows them quickly and says, "It's too bad these are going to take at least an hour to kick in. Do you think I should put ice on it?"

Blaine sees an opportunity and decides to jump on it. "That might help. But you know what? I'm pretty good at massages. Would you like one?" he asks, heart pounding as he silently begs Kurt to say yes.

Kurt hesitates, biting his lip and looking down at the table. Blaine steadies himself for rejection as Kurt rolls his shoulders again and flexes them experimentally. He glances up at Blaine shyly and says, "Maybe a massage would be good."

They relocate to the living room and cast about uncertainly for the best way to position themselves. They finally settle on both sitting on the rug. Blaine leans back against the sofa with his legs stretched out on either side of Kurt, who sits cross-legged in front of him. Blaine feels the heat of Kurt's body between his thighs and he glances nervously at their reflections in the mirror. He pushes his hips back against the sofa to gain a little distance as he doesn't quite trust himself not to get hard. Thinking about anything other than what he's seen through that mirror, Blaine forces his focus onto Kurt's shoulders in front of him.

Blaine places tentative fingers onto Kurt's shoulders, running them slowly from his neck out to his arms. He rubs Kurt's shoulders gently for a moment before gripping them tightly and pushing his thumbs into the flesh, rubbing in sensual circles. Heart pounding and desire coursing through his veins, Blaine shifts his thumbs toward the back of Kurt's neck, rubbing up into the base of his skull and letting his fingertips brush into Kurt's hair.

It is dizzying, intoxicating to be this close to him, to feel his muscles beneath his hands. Blaine closes his eyes and breathes the smell of him in deep as he rubs slowly and sensually across Kurt's shoulders and down the top of his back. Kurt is making delicious mewls and moans of pleasure and Blaine can feel him loosen up beneath his hands. Blaine closes his eyes again and pictures rubbing into Kurt's naked back. His cock stirs and his eyes fly open. _Don't think about that! _Kurt groans in protest at the hesitation and Blaine continues rubbing a bit more methodically now.

When he reaches Kurt's lower back, he can feel the tension in his muscles. He presses a thumb into one particularly tight knot and Kurt keens, "Ooh, right there, that's the spot."

Blaine hears himself say, "I would think you would have more tightness in your shoulders and neck, and not in your lower back, if it was just from hunching over. Did you do something else?" Blaine cringes immediately. _What possessed you to say that?_

But Kurt remains completely relaxed under Blaine's touch. He absently replies, "Hmmm, maybe. I can't remember what it could be though." Pulling away from Blaine's legs, Kurt continues. "That's enough, by the way. Thanks. I feel much better."

Reluctantly, Blaine lifts his hands from Kurt's back and places them on his own thighs. Kurt moves to the sofa and slouches back with a sigh. As they sit in silence, Blaine finds his eyes drawn once more to the mirror. He looks at their reflections and Kurt meets his gaze in the glass.

As they look at each other in the mirror, Blaine asks something that has been on his mind for a long time. "Was that always here?" He regrets the question immediately. If Kurt put in the mirror himself, then he would have to know about the window on the other side. And Blaine can't imagine that his aunt would have wanted to spy on anyone. But if Kurt's first creepy neighbor put it in, how would he do it without Kurt's knowledge? It just didn't add up.

"Oh, I didn't put it in myself if that's what you mean. But it wasn't here when I first looked at the place. The owner of the building put it in at my request," Kurt answers lazily, closing his eyes and stretching out on the couch. Blaine turns to face him, eyes raking over Kurt's peaceful face and rumpled shirt. Kurt's response brought up more questions than it answered.

Blaine is still trying out different follow-up questions in his mind when Kurt continues. "There was another apartment I was looking at on the other side of town. It had a big mirror all across one wall, and I really liked it. This building is in a better neighborhood and the apartment has that great view, but they wanted a lot more rent, and they didn't have that incredible mirror."

"So you bargained for it?" Blaine asks curiously.

"Well, you have seen how good I am at bargaining," Kurt says coyly, opening his eyes and raising his head to look at Blaine. "I have to use my acting skills for something useful, you know."

"Still, it seems like a rather odd request. Most people would ask for utilities to be included or something," Blaine insists, certain there is more to this story.

"Well, I could have bought a mirror and installed it myself, but they can be quite expensive. So I thought I would ask. I probably would have picked this apartment anyway."

"So the owner agreed just like that?" Blaine persisted.

Kurt glances to the side, remembering. "Well, now that you mention it, she didn't agree right away. Mrs. Morrison left me in the apartment on my own while she went downstairs to get a copy of the lease agreement for me to review. While she was gone I met Sandy. You know, the really creepy neighbor? But he didn't seem creepy at the time, just very friendly." Blaine feels chills run down his spine as Kurt continues his story, happily unaware of Blaine's growing horror. "We were talking in the hallway when Mrs. Morrison came back and I asked about the mirror. She kind of brushed me off in person, but a week later I got a text from her suggesting I come back to see the improvements." Kurt smiles and gestures at the mirror. "And there it was. I was quite thrilled, so I signed the lease agreement on the spot."

**February 26, 2023**

Blaine is certain that Sandy must have had the mirror installed and that the next sub-letter, creepy neighbor number two, had also watched Kurt. _And now so am I – creepy neighbor number three. _Blaine pushes that thought aside and decides he needs to find out more about what might have happened.

Blaine calls his father and after exchanging a few pleasantries, guides the conversation to the sub-lease agreement Aunt Becca had with the man who had lived in the apartment when Kurt moved in. "So, I was wondering," Blaine begins hesitantly before rushing through his question. "Does the lease agreement allow a sub-letter to make modifications to the apartment?"

His father reacts with immediate anger. "You've been there less than two months, Blaine! What did you do? Are you throwing wild parties? Did someone break a wall?"

"What? No, nothing," Blaine splutters. He had not anticipated the accusation. "I haven't modified anything; I'm asking about if the sub-letters ever did."

"Why? Did they?" his father booms, the anger now laced with traces of concern. "Is there something wrong with the apartment? Do I need to fly up there and look at it?"

"No – no. Nothing's wrong with it."

His father sighs in frustration. "Then why are you asking about this?"

"Um – well," Blaine starts, inventing what he hopes is a plausible cover story. "I'm asking for my neighbor. He sub-lets, too, and he wanted to know what our agreement says. He thought if we allowed modifications it would help him bring it up with the person he sub-lets from," he lies.

"What does he want to do?"

"Built in bookcases, I think. I didn't really ask."

"Oh. Well, I can't really help you or your neighbor there. There isn't anything about that in the agreement that I know of. And I would turn down anyone who requests it. You never know what kind of nightmare that can turn into." _You have no idea_, thinks Blaine as his father continues. "It's the person whose name is on the lease who is responsible for the apartment, not the sub-letter. Just tell your neighbor to buy freestanding bookcases. They're better than making an investment in something you can't take with you when you leave."

"Yeah. I guess you're right," Blaine concedes. He steers the discussion to Cooper, relieved that his brother's antics always provide a good segue out of a messy conversation.

_**A/N: And finally, those of you who guessed that the scene Blaine tells Kurt over the phone was inspired by Struck By Lightning are 100% correct. Gold stars all around!**_


End file.
